What it Takes
by Zeppelin Skies
Summary: Lucifer's cage is opened, throwing the world into apocalyptic chaos and making Sam and Dean's relationship seem unsalvageable. Caught in the middle of her best friend and her boyfriend, Elena tries to bring the brothers together before they all lose the war against angels and demons. And all while battling demons of their own. Dean/OC, Sequel to "Do You Recall."
1. Strung Out

**AN: This is a sequel to _Do You Recall_. It will be much shorter, and will include some more deviations from the story line for those who are tired of just reading a recap of the same episodes, no matter how much we love 'em. ****The story title and chapter titles are based on much loved (by me at least) song titles: the chapter title by Steve Perry, the story title by Aerosmith.**

* * *

 **What It Takes**

 _I: Strung Out_

They were on a plane.

A fucking _plane_.

"What the hell," Sam whispered.

"I don't know," Dean murmured, but the plane was full of passengers. They were in a three-seat lane with Elena in between them. The pilot announced over the intercom that they were passing Ilchester overhead.

"Weren't we just there?" Elena asked. Before Dean could reply or complain about his fear of flying, the pilot swore over the intercom and the plane lurched—cutting left, then straight down. The oxygen masks deployed, but Dean wouldn't take his hands off the arm rests. He only clenched Elena's hand too tightly when she grabbed onto him. From outside the window, he could see the great flash of light engulfing the convent below.

The plane eventually righted itself as the explosion died down, but none of them relaxed for the duration of the flight.

.

* * *

.

Elena was lucky she parked a good distance away from the convent. They landed just outside the city and hotwired an abandoned car to get back to her Camaro, nearly a mile away from the convent.

"Why _did_ you park so far?" Dean asked from the passenger seat when she took up the task of driving.

"I read what Chuck wrote, the place blowing up and everything," she said. Though she guessed it wouldn't have mattered if they hadn't made it out alive. Sam tried to say his piece and apologize, but Dean stopped him calmly, assuring he wasn't mad. They had more pressing things to deal with, like where Cas was. So Elena drove to Chuck's house for the second time that day.

The place was completely trashed, complete with blood splattering in the kitchen. A small creaking sound had them on alert, until Sam was smacked in the face with a plunger.

" _Ow!_ "

"S-Sam? Sam! You're…you're okay!"

"Well, my head hurts."

"But my vision…you went like full on Vader! Your body temperature was one-fifty, your heart rate was two hundred, your eyes were black!"

"Your eyes went black?" Dean asked. Sam turned around, shame in his eyes and in the droop of his shoulders.

"I…I didn't know," he said. Dean took in an inaudible breath and turned back to Chuck.

"Where's Cas?"

"He's dead…or gone. The archangel smote the crap out of him." Chuck shook his head, both sad and apologetic. "I'm sorry."

"You sure? I mean…maybe he just vanished into the light or somethin'."

"Uh, no. He like, _exploded_ ," said Chuck. "Like a water balloon of chunky soup."

Sam and Elena had similar reactions at the grotesque visual, but Dean was strangely blank. Sam reluctantly pointed out something in the prophet's hair, and Chuck retrieved a bloody tooth, to his horror.

"Oh God…is there—is there a _molar_ in my hair? Tell me there's not a…a molar in my hair," he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment to swallow past the bile and repressed hysterics. "It's been a very stressful day."

Dean shook his head and muttered, "Cas, you stupid bastard."

Sam turned to his brother, frowning.

"Stupid? He was trying to help us."

"Yeah, _exactly._ "

"So what now?"

"I don't know."

"Oh crap," Chuck said. Elena glanced over at him with a frown.

"What?" she asked.

"I can feel them."

"Well, we thought we'd find you here."

They turned to a smug face Dean had come to know as Zachariah. Another angel who claimed to know his destiny. He stood flanked by two other angels in black suits, and kicked past a cracked bowl in his way.

"Playtime's over, Dean. Time to come with us."

"You just keep your distance, asshat." Dean pointed at the angel, effectively making Zachariah pause, if for a moment. He leaned back slightly and frowned.

"You're upset."

" _Yeah_. A little. You sons of bitches jump-started _Judgment Day_."

"We _let_ it happen, we didn't start anything," the angel pointed out, and then with a wink. "Right, Sammy?"

Sam glared, but couldn't exactly say much.

"You had a chance to stop your brother, so let's not quibble over who started what," Zachariah continued. "Let's just say it was all our faults and move on. Because like it or not…it's Apocalypse Now. And we're back on the same team again."

"Is that so?" Dean said with a mocking smirk.

"You want to kill the Devil, we want you to kill the Devil. It's…synergy."

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?" Dean asked. He could've laughed. "Cram it with walnuts, ugly."

Zachariah gave him a measuring look.

"This isn't a game, son. Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike _now_ , hard and fast, before he finds his vessel."

"His vessel?" asked Sam. "Lucifer needs a meat suit?"

Zachariah chuckled.

"He is an angel. Them's the rules." And then his smile was cold. "When he touches down we're talking Four Horsemen, fiery skies, the greatest hits. You can stop him, Dean. But you need our help."

Dean met the angel's eyes squarely.

"You listen to me, you two-faced douche," he said. "After what you did, I don't want jack-squat from you—"

The angel seethed and stepped forward, but Dean held his ground.

"You listen to _me_ , _boy_. You think you can rebel against us, as Lucifer did…" he trailed as his gaze did, downward to Dean's hand.

"You're bleeding," he pointed out.

"Oh, yeah," said Dean, whose mouth curved into a smirk. "A little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up."

He pulled out the sliding kitchen door and placed his hand in the center of the blood-drawn symbol, effectively banishing all three angels.

"I learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch."

.

* * *

.

They found a lower-than-usual-rate motel to finally crash for the night. None of them got much sleep. The tension was palpable until Sam left to get breakfast and Dean and Elena stayed to clean their knives and guns. It was quiet, but not peaceful.

"Dean," said Elena. She toyed with a salt round before sticking it back into the rifle in her hands. He looked up at her from his task of sharpening his knife.

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

His half chuckle was humorless, but it was enough of an answer. They were both tired, and dirty, and starving, and very far from okay. Elena had known Dean long enough to realize what he was burying now, and why. She also understood that it would be useless to try and dissuade him.

Elena got up when the complimentary instant coffee was done and set a cup in front of Dean. She carded a hand through his hair and pressed a gentle kiss against his temple, then his cheek. His arm slid around her waist and he turned his head up to her, kissing her slowly.

Her hand was warm from the coffee mug and met his cheek, while his grasped her hip and pulled her closer.

All too soon, Sam unlocking the door broke them apart. He sensed that he'd interrupted something, but he covered it with a hesitant smile and nodded at Dean, tossing him a hex bag that he'd learned how to make "from Ruby." At seeing the look on his brother's face, he attempted again and again to apologize, but Dean snapped eventually, in so many words telling him to drop the subject.

"Let's say this is any other case. What would we do first?"

"Well uh…we'd…find the creature."

"Okay," Dean said. That was a start. "Now we just…find the Devil."

.

* * *

.

It was another hour before a stroke of luck came in the form of Becky Rozen, an obvious fan of Chuck's book series with a borderline disturbing obsession with Sam. But she delivered a message from Chuck, who was being monitored by the angels. Fortunately for the hunters, the angels lost Michael's sword, which was the only weapon that could defeat Lucifer. Apparently it was in a castle, on a hill, made of forty-two dogs.

Becky left not long after that on Sam's insistence, but they called Bobby to let him know where they were, and to bring the Impala. It was a few hours, but he finally got to the hotel, hugging all three of them when he walked in.

"Good to see all of ya in one piece," he said.

"You weren't followed, were you?" Dean asked.

"You mean by angels, demons, or Sam's new superfan?"

Sam laughed a bit.

"You heard?"

"I heard, Romeo," he said. "So, you think we're talking about the actual sword of Michael."

"The sword from the actual archangel?" Dean clarified.

"You better friggin' hope so."

From the Impala's trunk he brought in one of several books especially for the occasion. He set it on the kitchen table and flipped it open to a picture of Michael.

"Toughest sombitch they got."

Dean looked over his brother's shoulder at the pictures, more like paintings.

"You serious? The guy looks like Kate Blanchett."

"Well I wouldn't wanna meet him in a dark alley, believe me," said Bobby. "He commands the heavenly host. During the last big dust up upstairs he's the one that booted Lucifer's ass to the basement, and he did it with that sword. So if we can find it—"

"We can kick the Devil's ass all over again," Sam finished. "…So where do we start?"

"Divvy up and start readin'. Try to make sense of Chuck's nonsense."

Sam nodded and got up from the table, though he paused at the kitchen counter.

"Kid," said Bobby. "You all right?"

"…No. I'm not, actually." Sam looked up at Bobby, Dean, and Elena. The only family he had, and he'd let them down in the worst way possible.

"Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry," he said, and continued, despite Dean's warning call of his name. Elena only shook her head, crossing her arms. "Lilith didn't break the final seal…Lilith _was_ the final seal."

"Sam," Dean said firmly. " _Stop it._ "

"I killed her, and I set Lucifer free."

"…You _what?_ " Bobby exclaimed.

"You warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen," said Sam. "…I brought this on."

Bobby stood from the table and moved toward Sam, his expression incredulous. He stopped in front of Sam.

"You're damn right you didn't listen. You were _reckless_ , and _selfish_ , and _arrogant_."

"I'm sorry," Sam said weakly, blinking past the burn in his eyes.

"Oh yeah?" Bobby whispered, and came close to Sam, looking the younger Winchester in the eyes. "You're sorry you started _Armageddon?_ This kind of this don't get forgiven, boy…if by some miracle we pull this off, I want you to lose my number. Understand me?"

Sam nodded slowly and swallowed past the lump in his throat.

"There's an old church nearby," he said, his voice small. "Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there."

"Yeah," Bobby nodded. "You do that."

.

* * *

.

Elena wanted to say something at the time, but didn't know how when her uncle was so obviously mad and hurt. She agreed with what he said, just…not how harsh he'd been. Dean wasn't upset with Bobby. It looked like he agreed with him too. And maybe they all needed the space, but she was really starting to hate the quiet after three hours.

"I woulda never guessed your daddy was right," said Bobby.

"About what?"

"About your brother." Dean gave him a sideways look. "That you'd either save him or have to kill him. Maybe…"

"Maybe what?" Dean asked. Elena looked up at Bobby through furrowed brows.

"Maybe we shouldn't have tried so hard to save him."

"Bobby," Dean's protest was somewhat of a groan, and Elena was slightly taken aback. She'd never known him to even suggest something like that.

"He ended the _world_ , Dean. And we weren't strong enough to stop him," he said. "That's on us. I'm just sayin', your dad was right."

"Bobby, hold on a minute," Elena began, but Dean laid a hand on her wrist.

"…Dad," he trailed.

"Dean?" Elena asked. He had that look in his eyes that said they'd found their breakthrough. He searched through his back and retrieved a zip lock bag full of pictures and dates and receipts.

"I don't believe it," he smiled, and brought the small card in his hand to the table. "I don't believe it."

"The hell is it?" Bobby asked.

"It's a card," said Dean. "From my dad's lock up in upstate New York. Read it."

" _Castle storage, 42 Rover Hill._ "

"Castle on a hill with forty-two dogs," said Dean.

"So you think your dad had the Michael-sword the whole time?" Elena asked.

"I don't know. I'm not sure what else Chuck could've meant."

Bobby shrugged.

"All right. Good enough for me."

Dean didn't see the punch coming, but it sent him reeling back, through a wooden rail and to the floor. Elena's scream brought him back to his senses as his vision cleared, just in time to see Bobby grab her by the hair and slam her head into the kitchen counter. She slid to the ground.

Dean then scrambled to get his feet under him, and Bobby helped him the rest of the way up, only to kick him straight through the closet door.

Dean's vision swam again, but Bobby shook him clear and grabbed his shoulders tightly while pulling him onto his feet and holding him in place. His eyes flashed black and Dean knew for certain this wasn't Bobby at all. The front door opened, letting in three demons: two men and a woman with long dark hair and a sassy smirk.

"I always knew you were a big, dumb, slow, pain in the ass, Dean," she drawled. "But I never dreamed you were so VIP."

She plucked Ruby's knife from the nightstand and grinned at him.

"I mean, _you_ are gunna ice the Devil? _You?_ " Meg laughed and traced his jaw line with the blade in her hands. "If I'd have known that I'd have ripped your pretty, pretty face off ages ago."

"Ruby?" he greeted through the pain in his shoulder blade. Bobby had a death-grip on him.

"Try again," she said. "Go back further."

"…Meg?"

"Hi." The demon smiled at the surprise on his face. "These are the days of miracle and wonder, Dean. Our father is among us. You know, we're all dreamy again for the first time since we were human? It's Heaven on earth. Or Hell…we really owe your brother a fruit basket."

The hunter rolled his eyes.

"My God you like the sound of your own voice."

"You on the other hand, you're the only bump on the road," she said. "So every demon, _every single one_ , is just dying for a piece of you."

Dean smiled mockingly.

"Get in line."

"Oh, I'm in the front of the line, baby," she said. "Let's ride."

Meg kissed him hard, held him by his chin while he tried to pull away. Until she screamed in both pain and annoyance when three rounds of salt embedded themselves into her arm, stomach, and thigh. The fingers in Dean's shoulder squeezed harder into muscle, but he turned around to see Elena with a rifle in her hand. He knew that look. She was severely pissed.

One of Meg's companions started to charge her, but she let out another round between his eyes, the force sending him smacking into the wall behind him. Meg recovered enough to hold up a hand, commanding the third demon to stay where he was. She smirked.

"I've been meaning to ask about your little friend, Dean," she said, then glanced over at Bobby, who used Dean as a shield against Elena. Meg put the magic knife into Bobby's free hand. "But ya know, your surrogate daddy's still in there, screaming. And I want him to know how it feels slicing life out of you. And if there's anything left of your girlfriend when I'm done…he can finish her off."

"No!" Elena exclaimed when the demon in Bobby rushed forward, pinning Dean against the wall. But before she could fire, Meg aimed a kick at Elena's head. She ducked and jammed the butt of the rifle between the demon's eyes, then flipped it around to shoot her again. The sound of a knife making contact with flesh made her stop.

She looked up and watched Bobby's eyes flicker out and roll into his head as he hit the floor. Ruby's knife protruded from his stomach. Tears burned in her eyes, but she had no time to recover as a punch to the jaw sent her careening back into the table. Her breath was knocked right out of her lungs and she couldn't get it back right away. And then she couldn't get it back at all, as a hand closed around her throat and squeezed painfully.

"Hmm...I don't think I'll leave much of anything," Meg said with a smirk as the woman under her choked. Her weight was heavy on Elena, and she could feel her windpipe just about to give under the pressure.

And then with a male grunt the weight was gone. Elena sucked in precious air, the pain in her lungs bringing involuntary tears to her eyes once again, but Dean was there to brush her hair out of her face and ask her if she was okay.

She could only nod through her coughing and watch the newly entered Sam fight off Meg, until he got a hold of Ruby's knife.

Meg left her meat suit in a heap on the floor.

.

* * *

.

They rushed Bobby to St. Martin's Hospital. He was still alive but bleeding out fast. The nurse wouldn't allow them to follow him further once they got him on the stretcher. Dean knew how badly Elena wanted to stay, but their shitty day still wasn't over with.

"We can't. We've gotta get to dad's locker before the demon's do," said Dean, reluctant but firm. Elena looked up at him through tears that streamed down her face.

"Dean—" she started coarsely. Her voice was still weak and it pained her to speak, but this was _Bobby_.

"I know," he held her face in his hands and wiped under her eyes with his thumbs. "We'll come straight back after we take care of this. We don't have time anymore."

With a shaky breath she nodded and let him lead her outside.

.

* * *

.

Sam had driven her Camaro to the hospital, so they left it there while they drove the Impala to the storage unit in upstate New York. They went in, weapons drawn, and found a host of demons dead and bleeding on the floor. And Zachariah and his men found them.

"I see you told the demons where the Michael-sword is."

"Oh, thank God. The angels are here," Dean snapped in exasperation.

"And to think, they could've grabbed it anytime they wanted," said Zachariah. With a motion of his hand, the door slid shut behind them. "It was right in front of them."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"We might've planted that piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true," said the angel. "We _did_ lose the Michael-sword. We _truly_ couldn't find it, until now. You've just hand-delivered it to us."

Dean regarded the angel through narrowed eyes.

"We don't have anything," he said. Zachariah shook his head with a grin.

"It's you, chucklehead. You're the Michael-sword." The angel laughed. "What, you thought you could _actually_ kill Lucifer? You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing? No. You're just a human, Dean…not much of one."

"What do you mean _I'm_ the sword?" Dean cut in tersely.

"You're Michael's weapon. Or rather, his receptacle."

"…I'm a vessel?"

"You're _the_ vessel. Michael's vessel."

"H-How," asked Dean. "Why me?"

"Because you're _chosen_ , Dean. It's a great honor."

"Oh, yeah. Life as an angel condom. That's _real_ fun," Dean deadpanned. "I think I'll pass, _thanks._ "

Zachariah shook his head.

"Joking…always joking, well, no more jokes…bang." He raised a hand and "shot" Sam with broken legs. Elena gasped and knelt down to help him sit up and breathe through the pain.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed.

"Keep mouthing off and I'll break more than his legs," the angel said smoothly. "I am completely and utterly _through_ screwing around. War has begun, and we don't have our general. That's _bad_. Now Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?"

"How many humans die in the crossfire, huh?" Dean asked sharply. "A million? Five, ten?"

"Probably more. If Lucifer goes unchecked, how many die? _All of them._ He'll roast the planet alive."

"…There's a reason you're telling me this," said Dean, "Instead of just nabbing me…you need my consent. Michael needs my say so to ride around in my skin."

The angel's lips pursed.

"…Unfortunately, yes."

Dean shook his head.

"There's gotta be another way."

"There _is_ no other way. There must be a battle. Michael _must_ defeat the serpent, it is written."

"Maybe," said Dean. "But on the other hand, eat me. The answer's no."

"Okay, how about this. You know your friend Bobby, gravely injured? If you say yes we'll heal him, say no and he'll never walk again."

Dean's expression was stony, but unyielding.

"No," he said.

Then the angel's gaze went to Sam and Elena, who glared at him from their vantage point on the floor.

"Then why don't we heal this girl here from…oh I dunno, stage four stomach cancer?"

Dean whipped around to Elena, who suddenly looked too pale. Sam tried to steady her, but she stumbled to her knees coughing. It felt like a stabbing pain in her stomach but putting her hand there would only add pressure. Dean grabbed her shoulder to support her shaky frame. But when her hand went to her mouth as she continued to cough, it came away coated in blood. Her eyes widened in fear and she looked up at Dean.

"I believe that's what your mother died from, is it not?" Zachariah asked her with raised brows, and both she and Dean glared at him.

"Stop," he gritted out icily.

"Or maybe we can save you from that heart disease-induced heart attack."

And then Dean couldn't breathe from the pain in his chest. He slid to his knees heavily beside Elena and clutched at his heart.

"Oh! Let's get really creative and see how Sam does without his lungs."

Both Dean and Elena looked over at Sam, who couldn't even gasp for breath. Zachariah leaned forward with a cold look.

"You're going to say yes, Dean."

Dean shook his head.

"Just…kill us," he wheezed.

"Kill you? Oh no…I'm just getting started."

A flash of light startled all of them, even Zachariah. Within moments both of his lackeys in black suits were disposed of, by Castiel. It left the remaining angel nearly speechless.

"How are you…"

"Alive?" he finished. "That's a good question. How did these three end up on that airplane? Another good question, as the angels didn't do it…I think we both know the answer, don't we?"

Zachariah looked shocked.

"No…that's not possible."

"It scares you. Well, it should," said Castiel. "Now put them back together and _go_. I won't ask twice."

A flutter of wings and then Sam and Dean could breathe, and Elena wasn't coughing up blood. They helped each other stand and regarded the remaining angel through wide eyes.

"You three should be more careful," he admonished.

"Yeah, I'm starting to get that," said Dean. "Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought."

"I don't mean the angels…Lucifer is circling his vessel," Cas said. "And once he takes it those hex bags won't be enough to protect you."

He then burned Enochian sigils into each of their ribs to protect them against being found by all angels, including Lucifer. Once they got over the burning sensation, Sam brought up the elephant in the room.

"Cas…were you really dead?"

"Yes," he replied.

"Then how are you back?" asked Dean. As per usual, the angel left without answering the question.

.

* * *

.

"Unlikely to walk again? _You snot-nosed son of a bitch!_ Wait 'til I get out of this bed, I'll use my game leg to kick your fucking ass!"

Bobby watched in satisfaction as the doctor bolted from the door and hastened down the hallway.

"Yeah, you better run!"

He glanced over at the Winchester brothers and his niece, who leaned against the wall.

"Can you believe that yahoo?"

"Screw him, you'll be fine," said Dean, his arms crossed.

"…So let me ask the million-dollar question," said Sam. "What do we do now?"

"Well, we save as many as we can for as long as we can I guess," said Bobby. "It's bad. Whoever wins, Heaven or Hell, we're screwed."

"What if _we_ win?" said Dean, and after the look he earned from the old man, "I'm serious. Screw the angels and the demons and their shit Apocalypse. Now they want to fight a war? They can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it."

He moved from the wall to slowly pace the room.

"We kill the Devil. Hell, we kill Michael if we have to, but we do it our own damn selves."

"And how are we supposed to do all this?" Bobby asked.

"I got no idea," Dean shrugged. "But what I do have is a GED and a give 'em hell attitude, and I'll figure it out."

The other three looked at one another with similar expressions of amusement.

"You're nine kinds of crazy, boy," Bobby said, despite fighting a smile. Again, Dean shrugged.

"It's been said." He went forward and laid a hand on the older man's shoulder. "Listen, you stay on the mend. See you in a bit."

Elena smiled at her uncle and surprised him by hugging him. He chuckled a bit and rested his hand on her back for a bit before letting her go. She straightened and leaned into Dean when he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Sam," Bobby called to the boy before they could leave. Sam stopped short and turned to him. "I was awake. I know what I said back there…I just want you to know…that was the demon talking. I ain't cuttin' you out, boy. Not ever."

Sam nodded gratefully, his eyes shining.

"Thanks, Bobby."

"You're welcome…I deserve a damn medal for this, but…you're welcome."

.

* * *

.

"So I was thinking, we could go after the Colt," said Sam on their way to the parking lot.

"What difference would that make?" asked Dean.

"I figured we could use it on Lucifer. You said back there—"

"I just said all that crap for Bobby's benefit."

Elena looked at him incredulously.

"Are you serious?" she asked.

"Come _on_ …I'll fight. I'll fight to the last man, but let's be honest. We don't have a snowball's chance and you two know that." Dean then glanced at Sam. "I mean, you of all people know that."

He brushed passed his brother and to the Impala.

"Dean…" Sam sighed. "Is there something you want to say to me?"

Dean debated with himself for a moment, but eventually shrugged.

"I tried, Sammy. I _really_ tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right," he said. "Because it's not. And it's never going to be…you chose a _demon_ over your own brother, and look what happened."

"I would give… _anything_ to take it all back."

"I know you would," said Dean. He closed his eyes for a moment and half wished Elena wasn't being caught in the middle of this, even if she _had_ gone to her car parked beside his to give them some privacy. "But man…you were the one I depended on the _most_ , and you let me down in ways that I can't even…I'm just—I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here."

Sam nodded minimally, as close to the emotional brink as his brother.

"What can I do?" he asked. Dean smiled without any mirth and shook his head.

"Honestly? Nothing. I just…don't think we can ever be what we were," he said. "I just don't think I can trust you."


	2. Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)

**AN: Hey everybody, thanks for those who are continuing with this after Do You Recall. I'm hoping you guys like this chapter, it's got a couple goodies and twists for ya. Feel free to drop a comment in the little box below. ;)**

 **The chapter title is by Journey.**

* * *

 _ **What It Takes**_

 _"Feelin' that it's gone  
Can't change your mind_ _  
If we can't go on  
To survive the tide  
Love divides,"_

 _—Journey, "Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)_

 _II: Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)_

With Castiel cut off from Heaven and much of its power, Bobby remained sour and wheelchair bound. The angel left with Dean's amulet on a quest to find God—according to his logic, the only one left besides Michael strong enough to stop Lucifer. Meanwhile, Elena tried to cheer Bobby up, but he refused to be "coddled" and wouldn't even let her stay with him in the hospital when Rufus called in a panic.

But there weren't demons in River Pass, Colorado. Just one of the Four Horsemen with a sick sense of humor. Sam cut off War's finger and Dean grabbed his magic ring, ending the crazy demon circus and saving Ellen, Jo, Rufus and Elena in the process. But by the end of it, both Winchesters came to a realization: Sam couldn't trust himself, and Dean couldn't focus on the case and get the job done right if he had to be worrying about Sam. So Sam hitched a ride out of River Pass going west while Dean and Elena took the Impala and headed east.

They spent the better part of a month on one hunt after another. It was different, just the two of them. Calmer. Neither wanted to admit things were…more peaceful. The two didn't talk about it if they could help it, just took on another case and hit another no-name bar after another. Though Elena was relieved when Dean said they'd take a bit of a break after this last one dealing with a shapeshifter. It put both of them through the ringer.

That night they checked into a motel in Portales, New Mexico and it was all Elena could do to put one foot in front of the other to follow Dean inside. The room was small even though the bed seemed a mile away from the doorway where she stood. There was nothing in her body that didn't scream in protest with every step, but she guessed that's what happened when you got your ass handed to you before being strapped to a medieval torture device.

If she didn't care much for shapeshifters before, she fucking hated them now. Them and their fetishes.

Dean wasn't much better off than her, with nearly getting drawn and quartered if he hadn't been able to reach one of his silver knives in time. But they'd cut it close. Not having Sam was putting a wrench in what had been their routine for so long. With the third pair of eyes they might've escaped in half the time. Hell, they probably wouldn't have let the shapeshifter completely get the drop on them in the first place, let alone nearly get stretched to death.

Elena's back twinged painfully when she set her bag down on the floor. Rolling her shoulders didn't help, but she lowered herself to the bed's edge and slowly removed her jacket. Dean watched her out of the corner of his eye at her ginger movements. He kicked off his shoes and socks and tossed a bottle of pain relievers within her reach.

"Want first shower?" he offered, and a generous one it was. It let her know she hadn't covered her discomfort well enough. Elena hesitated. That was an offer she wanted to take, but she honestly wasn't sure if she had the energy.

"Yeah," she said eventually. "Gimme a sec."

"You okay?"

She nodded and tried to slide her boots off. The laces were too tight for that, so she had no choice but to bend over her knees. She got about halfway there before a muscle spasm in her lower back made her stop and she couldn't quite smother the small cry it evoked. Then Dean was in front of her to make sure she stopped, and let him take them off the damn shoes for her.

"You're hurt," he said. The pain was obvious in her eyes, but she shook her head stubbornly.

"I'm fine."

He rolled his eyes and sat next to her.

"Where?" he asked.

"Dean—"

"Cut it out, Elena. Tell me where."

She sighed and gave in, muttering about the knife-like sensation near her spine and how shapeshifters should never get access to museums. When he started undoing the buttons of her plaid shirt she couldn't help a weak smirk.

"You _do_ work fast."

Dean snorted.

"Lay down flat," he instructed and tossed the shirt onto the floor. "On your stomach."

"All right, Dr. Feelgood. Just be gentle— _ah-ha!_ " She winced at the initial pressure against the knot they both could feel just underneath her skin. He murmured apologies every so often at the pained sounds she couldn't help, but didn't let up on massaging the muscle there until the knot loosened. By the end of it her eyes were squeezed shut with her hands clenched into the blankets. But she couldn't help a low moan when his hands started smoothing circles in a burning trail up her back.

"Too much?" The smirk in his voice was obvious.

"Stop and I'll hurt you," she huffed into the bed. Dean chuckled. He unclipped her bra and worked his way up until getting to her neck and shoulders, where he freed her hair from its tight braid.

"Explains why you're so tense," he remarked and pushed away her hair. She sighed in response and finally relaxed fully, folding her hands under her cheek and closing her eyes.

"There are lots of reasons for that."

He didn't have much to say to that, so he didn't say anything. Dean knew she, at least partially, meant his brother.

It was both harder and easier without Sam. Even harder to admit, and he'd tried (he really had) not to think about it. There was less drama, for sure, and more time alone than he'd ever had with Elena. Bottom line, there was less to deal with.

While Dean knew Elena wouldn't say, he knew she was thinking the same as him most times. It wasn't the same, but he was ashamed to say he needed and _wanted_ the space, for however long it would last.

And Sam did too. He had said as much and thought it would be good for everybody, and it was.

Elena turned over and called his name softly.

"Yeah?" he said, a little distracted. She grabbed one of his calloused hands and held it.

"Thanks." She smiled when he brushed her hair away from her face with his other hand.

"You can tell me when you're hurt, ya know." He pinned her with a look that was slightly chiding. "I thought we'd been over this."

"If it gets me this every time, I will." She smiled cheekily and pulled him down to her. Dean smirked and let her. He placed a few kissed along the column of her throat while his hands wandered over bare skin, up her sides and stopping at the edge of her loose bra. He began to pull the straps down her shoulders, until he caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Dean's gaze snapped up to see Castiel standing in the middle of the room, shifting his stance somewhat awkwardly.

" _Cas!_ " he exclaimed over Elena's gasp and lay over her, shielding her from view.

"I am…interrupting something."

"Damn right you are, _turn around!_ "

The angel gave something like an apologetic look and obliged. Dean got off Elena, allowing her to fix her bra and grab her forgotten shirt from the floor and hastily button it. Dean sighed in disappointment as he stood from the bed and ran a hand over his face.

"You need to fucking _knock_ , man," he said in frustration. "How'd you find us anyway? I thought we were flying below the angel-radar."

"You are. Bobby told me where you were," Cas replied. "Where's Sam?"

Dean shared a glance with Elena.

"You can turn around now," she told the angel sourly. Cas turned around and raised his brows expectantly, as his question still wasn't answered.

"Us and Sam are taking separate vacations for a while." Dean grabbed his jacket from the floor. "So, you find God yet? Or more importantly, can I have my damn necklace back, please?"

"No, I haven't found him. That's why I'm here, I need your help."

"With what?" Dean asked dryly. "The God-hunt? Not interested."

"It's not God, it's someone else."

"Who?"

"An archangel," said Cas. "The one who killed me."

"Excuse me?" Dean asked, his face mirroring Elena's.

"His name is Rafael."

"…You were wasted by a teenage mutant ninja angel?"

"I've heard whispers that he's walking the earth. This is a rare opportunity."

"For what, revenge?"

"Information."

Dean was less than enthused, but realized the angel was serious if he was talking about catching and interrogating an archangel. He crossed his arms and regarded Castiel with a long look.

"Give me one reason why I should do this?"

"You're Michael's vessel," Castiel explained, finally looking agitated. "No angel would dare harm you."

"Oh, so I'm your bullet shield," he said. "I doubt that's gunna extend to Elena too."

"It will, but I _need_. Your help," said Cas. It was the closest thing to begging both hunters had ever seen him. "Because you are the _only_ ones who will help me…please."

Dean restrained a sigh and glanced over at Elena. She breathed deeply and shrugged.

"All right. Fine," he said reluctantly.

Castiel nodded.

"He's in Maine, let's go." He reached out two hands to touch both humans' foreheads, but Dean leaned back.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he protested.

"What?"

"Last time you zapped me someplace I couldn't shit for a week," he said. "We're driving."

.

* * *

.

Instead of taking Cas's direct approach, they played it smart and went into the precinct deputy's office as FBI investigating the recent gas station riot and subsequent explosion. The deputy remembered one man who stood amidst the carnage without a scratch, but was now admitted to a local hospital.

Looking into his room they saw a wheelchair bound man who stared vacantly out the large windows, a vegetable.

"Is this what I'm looking at if Michael jumps my bones?" Dean asked.

"No, not at all," said Cas. "Michael is much more powerful. It'll be far worse for you."

Elena looked up at Dean and wasn't able to cover her worry. He didn't really meet her gaze, but steered her down the hall with a hand against her lower back.

They drove to a rundown empty house on the edge of the city, vacated by the recent riots. Dean and Elena were forced to wait the long hours of the night while Castiel disappeared, only to return with a vase of oil, supposedly from Jerusalem. He said they had to wait out until sunrise for Rafael.

"Do we have any chance of surviving this?" Dean asked point blank. Cas sat down at the table in the kitchen.

"You two do."

"So come tomorrow you're probably a dead man."

"Yes."

"Wow…well, last night on earth. What are your plans?"

"…I just thought I'd sit here quietly."

"Dude, come on really? No booze, women?"

" _Really?_ " Elena deadpanned, giving Dean an exasperated look. He raised his hands, placating.

"For _him_."

Cas looked down and away from Dean.

"You… _have_ been with a woman before. Or an angel at least?"

The angel scratched the back of his head and still wouldn't meet Dean's gaze. The latter leant down near him.

"You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud seeding?"

"I've never had occasion, okay?"

Elena rolled her eyes and covered her eyes with her hand as Dean started putting his jacket on. She knew she'd live to regret this, but there really wasn't much she could do when he got that look on his face.

"Let me tell you somethin', there are two things I know for certain. One: Bert and Ernie are gay. Two: you are _not_ gunna die a virgin."

Dean looked over at Elena, who leaned against the wall with her arms crossed.

"I think I'll just stay here, if it's all the same," she said dryly. She knew he was going to find the skeeviest bar he could find (if it was a bar he was planning on going to), and she'd rather not. He grinned and slipped an arm around her waist.

"Not on your life, babe. Who else is gunna drink with me?" He teased, "It'll be like a date."

She cracked a smirk.

"Yeah, because helping an angel get laid is _every_ girl's idea of a date."

.

* * *

.

"Would you _relax?_ "

"This is a den of iniquity. I shouldn't be here."

"Dear God," Elena muttered. The poor guy was so afraid and uncomfortable it hurt to look at him.

"Dude, you full on rebelled against Heaven," said Dean. "Iniquity is one of the _perks_."

"Cas," said Elena, for the first time using his nickname and at the same time earning the angel's attention. "You can relax. They'll…show you what to do. They're professionals."

But Castiel wasn't really paying attention as a young woman in a white negligee sauntered over to their table with an easy smile.

"Hi. What's _your_ name?"

His fear was overwhelming his ability to speak. Elena had to bite her lip to hide her smile as she shared a look with Dean, who finally had to answer for him.

"Cas. His name's Cas. What's your name?"

"Chastity," she replied cheerfully, while the angel began to chug his beer.

"Chastity?" Dean repeated, inwardly chuckling at the irony. "Is that cool or what, buddy? Huh?"

Cas almost finished the beer off in one sip.

"Well, he likes you and you like him, so…have fun!"

Chastity's smile broadened and she grabbed Cas's hand.

"Come on, baby," she said, and led him to his feet. Cas sent Dean one more panicked look, but followed her into the back room after taking the wad of money and helpful tips Dean offered him about keeping his "order" simple.

Dean returned to the table and sat opposite of Elena, who sipped her fruity drink through a straw. He raised suggestive brows and leant forward.

"Time to have our own party."

She huffed a short laugh.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"Aw, come on. Where else can you get this kind of ambiance?"

"A brothel."

"…Nah, they don't set up as fancy."

"…I'm going to pretend that didn't come out of your mouth."

Dean laughed genuinely and sipped at his beer. It was the most carefree she'd seen him in a long while.

"I'm just kiddin', Lena."

She just rolled her eyes, but couldn't help a smile at his antics as she bit indelicately on her straw.

"Have we _ever_ been on a date?" Dean asked after a few beats of comfortable silence. Elena wracked her brain.

"Uh…no, I don't think so," she said. Her gaze shifted away from his face. "We've never really had time."

"Or been alone for that long," he finished for her. Besides recently, that is. Her smile fell as her eyes drifted back to his face.

"That's…such a coupley thing to do," she mused and smiled again, slightly. It didn't reach her eyes.

"We are, aren't we?" Dean asked. She blinked.

"Well yeah, but…you've never talked about something like that before."

"Hasn't really come up until now." He said it as he realized it, and the table fell in a silence that wasn't so comfortable.

Until both of them were startled by the feminine scream that came from the back. At seeing a furious Chastity come storming out of the room the two were on their feet. Cas came out, his coat and tie half undone—the picture of confusion as the woman yelled obscenities at him, and then at Dean and Elena as they passed to get to their friend.

"What the hell did you _do?_ " Dean hissed.

"I simply looked into her eyes and told her it wasn't her fault that her dad left," said the angel. "He just hated his job at the post office."

Dean laughed, despite himself.

"Aw man, this kind of place thrives on absent fathers. It's the natural order…" But at seeing the two bouncers heading toward them, Dean pushed both Castiel and Elena outside through the back. Elena was embarrassed for Cas, but Dean's rare full body laughter was too infectious not to bring a smile to her face. They'd just gotten kicked out of one of the skeeviest gentleman's clubs in the area.

.

* * *

.

In the morning they snuck into the man's room in the hospital, and Castiel poured the holy oil around him.

"When the oil burns, no angel can touch or pass through the flames, or he dies."

"Okay, so we trap him in a steel cage of holy fire, but how the hell do we get him here?"

"There's, well, almost an open phone line between a vessel and his angel. One just has to know how to dial."

Castiel spoke an incantation into the man's ear, ending with a little taunt for Raphael for good measure. Dean wondered aloud how long it would take for Raphael to hear, to which Cas simply answered, "Be ready," and lit a match to the oil.

They spent the whole day in that hospital room, but the archangel never showed. Eventually they gave up and drove back to the house. It was just their luck that Raphael was waiting for them, possessing his vessel with a state of power that blacked out not only the room, but the eastern seaboard. Outside, it thundered and rained.

"Consider it a testament to my unending mercy that I don't smite you here and now," said Rafael. His voice was low and rumbling, not unlike the thunder. Castiel positioned himself in front of the two humans while Dean stepped in front of Elena.

"Or maybe you're full of crap," he said, earning the angel's attention. "Maybe you're afraid God'll bring Cas back to life again, and smite you in your candy ass skirt."

The angel raised a brow, and Dean smirked.

"By the way, hi, I'm Dean—"

"I know who you are." Rafael chuckled slightly. "And now thanks to him, I know _where_ you are."

"You wouldn't kill him," said Cas. "You wouldn't dare."

"But I will take him to Michael."

"Well that sounds terrifying. It does," said Dean, walking toward the cooler of beers he left by the fireplace before they left. He twisted the cap open on one. "But I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Surely you remember Zachariah giving you a heart attack," said Rafael. Dean took a swig from the bottle and turned back toward the archangel.

"Yeah. That was…hilarious."

"Yes. Well, he doesn't have anything close to my…imagination."

He stepped forward in small, intimidating steps.

"I bet you didn't imagine one thing," said Dean.

" _What?_ "

"We knew you were coming, you stupid, son of a bitch."

He dropped his lighter on the circle of holy oil, efficiently trapping the archangel. Rafael looked at the surrounding flames, and then up at the rest of them with obvious steely anger. Elena drew near Dean subconsciously.

"Hey, don't look at me," Dean said, and nodded toward Castiel. "It was his idea."

Cas looked over at him with a deadpan expression before turning toward Rafael.

"Where is He?"

"God?"

Castiel nodded.

"Didn't you hear?" said Rafael. "He's _dead_ , Castiel. Dead."

"No," Cas refuted. He wouldn't, _couldn't_ believe it.

"There is no other explanation. He's gone, for good."

"You're lying."

"Am I? Do you remember the twentieth century? Think the twenty-first is going any better?" said Rafael. "You think _God_ would've let any of that happen if he were alive?"

"Oh yeah?" asked Dean. "Then who invented the Chinese Basket trick."

Elena sent him a warning look. He had a penchant for mouthing off at all times that was going to get him killed one day.

"Careful," said Rafael. "That's my father you're talking about, boy."

"Yeah, who would be so proud to know that his sons started the friggin' Apocalypse."

"Who ran off and _disappeared?_ Who left, no instructions, and a world to run."

"…So Daddy disappeared. He didn't happen to work for the post office, did he?"

Castiel and Elena looked over at Dean with similar expressions of incredulity.

"Is this funny to you?" asked Rafael. "You're living in a Godless universe."

"And? What, you and the other kids decided to throw and Apocalypse while He's gone?"

"We're tired…we just want it to be over," he said. "We just want…Paradise."

"So what, God dies, you become the boss and you think you can do whatever you want?" Dean exclaimed.

"Yes," said the archangel, the fury returning to his eyes. "And whatever we want, we _get._ "

His power sent the windows exploding, to which Castiel acted fast and covered both Dean and Elena from the blast. It let in the rain that soaked them, but fortunately didn't extinguish the flames.

"If God is dead, how did I survive?" Castiel asked. "Who brought me back?"

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe Lucifer raised you?" said Rafael.

"No."

"Think about it. He needs all the rebellious angels he can find. You know it adds up."

After a moment, Cas shook his head.

"Let's go." He turned and headed toward the door, but was stopped by the archangel calling his name.

"I'm warning you. Do not leave me here," he said. "I will find you."

Castiel glanced over at Dean and Elena, then back to his former brother with the slightest smirk on his face.

"Maybe one day. But today, you're my little bitch."

.

* * *

.

"I'm glad you told Cas not to give up," Elena said. The Impala sped seventy miles an hour on deserted highway, well into the night.

"Poor guy needs to believe in something," he said. "Let's just hope the ninja turtle stays put for a while."

"Yeah…but did you really mean…what you said about Sam?" she asked. "I mean…"

"Lena…for _once_ , I don't have to be cleaning up after his mess or wonder if I'm being lied to," he said. "We can spend more time together…mostly uninterrupted, and I don't have to be distracted on the job half as much."

"Will you still feel that way a couple months from now?" she asked. "A year?"

"I don't know, maybe," Dean snapped. "But I feel better now than I have in months."

"I know. Believe me, I do. And don't get me wrong. Being with you? It's _great_." Elena held her gaze on his profile as she said, "But I know you, and I know Sam. Yeah, right now you two _need_ your space from one another. All I'm saying is, don't shut the door all the way."

Dean was quiet, but finally looked over at her.

"Look…Sam hurt you. He hurt me too," she said. "I'm not saying I know exactly how you feel, but…I do know what it's like to be chained to your family. Or at least, what it's like to feel that way. And I know what it's like to be shut out by them. Either way, it isn't a picnic."

His eyes met her earnest, grey gaze, and eventually he nodded and turned back to the road ahead. After a while she turned on the radio at a moderate volume level, and after an hour Dean could hear her breathing slow and even out in sleep. He thought about what she said and could admit she had a point.

But he wasn't calling his brother. Not anytime soon.

* * *

Sixteen hours later they stopped at a motel in Kansas City and dragged themselves into the room. Elena was on the phone with Bobby while Dean got a call from Castiel, wherever he was, talking about the Colt. Though the angel still thought the idea of killing Lucifer was ludicrous, the gun currently in the hands of the demons was their only shot. But the Colt could wait until tomorrow, after a few hours of sleep.

Elena was still on the phone when Dean hung up on Cas.

"Forgive me but you don't exactly sound fine," she said, and sat down on the edge of the bed, crossing one arm under her elbow.

"What's the matter?" Dean asked. Her brows furrowed at whatever the old man was telling her.

"Well _excuse me_ for giving a shit, Bobby! Next time I won't bother." Elena snapped the phone shut and tossed it next to her. Dean raised his brows at her.

"He's prickly at the moment," she sighed.

"You don't say."

"I just…wish I could do more, you know?"

Dean moved the phone over and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him and took in the smell of his leather jacket. The one he slung on the side of a chair but it still lingered on his clothes and his skin. It always made him smell like the old cologne and gun powder so ingrained in the leather. She'd come to know that smell like Dean could sniff out pie.

"Yeah I know."

His voice though. It still managed to rumble through her, down her spine and sometimes all the way to her toes.

Elena exhaled through her nose and realized how tired she was, not for the first time that night. But after sitting in a car for so long, she needed the grime of the road off her skin.

"I need a shower," she murmured. Dean turned his head to where hers rested against his shoulder and kissed her hair.

"Me too." She felt his grin as he pressed his lips to the top of her head, and couldn't help but smile herself.

"Only if you have the party box," she remarked, to which he leant down to rifle through his bag to find what she was talking about. He usually stowed a box of condoms deep in the trunk of his car for good measure, but he'd forgotten to do some grocery shopping and started using that box instead. After this he would have to, though.

"Last one, babe." His brows waggled and she smirked, despite herself.

"You better hope we don't run out of hot water," said Elena. Dean chuckled and pulled her to her feet, until their bodies aligned, her chest against his. She kissed him and let him continue to lead her into the bathroom. This time there were no intruding angels with quests or red alarms to stop them, though they did end up running out of hot water.

* * *

They went to sleep more exhausted than they were before, but for a better reason. Then Dean's cell phone just _had_ to ring after two solid hours. He almost didn't hear it, but Elena stirred in his arms and that finally woke him enough to grab at the phone.

" _Damn it_ , Cas. I need to sleep," he growled.

" _Dean, it's me_."

His eyes opened, glancing down at Elena's peeved expression.

"Sam?" he asked. Elena's annoyance dimmed to concern and curiosity.

"It's quarter past four."

" _This is important._ "

Dean sighed, but stretched widely and rolled onto his back. At least his muscles were lax from a better workout than weights could've ever given him. Elena went with him as he shifted and his hand lowered to the small of her back.

"All right. Shoot."

His little brother proceeded to tell him what had happened to him in the past few days, all of it culminating in Lucifer visiting him in his dreams to tell him that he was the archangel's true vessel.

"Just when you thought you were out, they pull you back in, huh, Sammy," Dean mused.

"… _That's it? That's your response?_ "

"What do you want?"

" _Uh, I don't know…a little panic maybe?_ "

"I guess I'm a little numb to the earth-shattering revelations at this point," said Dean. "Plus I'm half asleep."

" _What are we gunna do about it?_ "

"What do you want to do about it?"

" _I want back in, for starters._ "

Dean shook his head and again glanced down at Elena, who was close enough to hear the conversation and wore a frown.

"Sam…"

" _I mean, I'm sick of being a puppet to these sons of bitches…I'm gunna hunt him down, Dean._ "

"Oh, so we're back to revenge then, are we?" said Dean. "Yeah, 'cause that worked out so well last time."

" _Not revenge…redemption._ "

"So we're just gunna walk back in and we're going to be the dynamic duo again?"

" _Dean, I can do this._ _ **I can**_ ," said Sam. " _I'm going to prove it to you._ "

Elena looked up at Dean hopefully. He closed his eyes.

"Look, Sam. It doesn't matter, whatever we do," he said finally, sitting up against the headboard. "Turns out we're the fire and oil of the Armageddon. On that basis alone we should just pick a hemisphere and stay away from each other for good."

" _Dean, it doesn't have to be like this. We can fight it!_ "

"Yeah, you're right, but not together," said Dean. "We're not _stronger_ together, Sam. I think we're weaker. Because whatever we have between us: love, family, whatever it is, they are _always_ going to use it against us, and you know that…we're better off apart. And we've got a better chance of dodging Lucifer, Michael, and this whole damn thing…if we just go our separate ways."

" _If you're gunna go by that logic_ ," said Sam, " _What about Elena?_ "

"What _about_ her?" Dean asked, annoyed that he would bring her into it.

" _You really don't think they'd try to use her against you?_ " Sam's voice was gentler, without resentment or accusation, but it still annoyed Dean even more. It was different with Elena. She wasn't anyone's vessel, first of all, and Cas had said that Dean's status as Michael's vessel should protect her…though he was beginning to wonder how that exactly made any sense.

But Dean swallowed that worrying line of thought for later. The point that his brother failed to see was, Dean wasn't ready to be "Sam and Dean" again, driving down Route 66 and ganking "Monster of the Week." Maybe not ever.

"At least she doesn't lie to me."

The silence on the other line made him want to hang up already, because Dean could picture the look on his brother's face and didn't want to continue seeing it behind his eyelids when he closed his eyes.

"… _Dean,_ " Sam pleaded. _"Don't do this._ "

"Goodbye, Sam."

He clicked the phone shut and was eventually met by Elena's disappointed frown.

"Did you even listen to a word I said to you?" she asked, her voice a coarse whisper, still thick with sleep.

Dean shook his head. "I can't."

Her eyes were sad.

"You're afraid he'll turn on you again."

He gave her a tired look.

"Wouldn't you be?"

Her gaze fell to his chest, almost involuntarily avoiding his eyes. Because how could he _not_ be? Even Sam agreed that his brother had every right to be angry, resentful even. That didn't mean she had to like seeing them like this, or keep pretending that everything was fine when it wasn't. But for him, she could continue trying to help the only way she knew how to.

"Okay," she said at last. Her hand rested against his chest, feeling muscle just underneath soft cotton. "I get it."

Dean nodded in appreciation and once again coiled his arm around her during his attempt of finding a comfortable position. He was determined to get another few hours in before morning hit. Elena was tired enough and wrapped so warmly in Dean and blankets that sleep wasn't very far away.

.

* * *

.

When she woke the right side of the bed was empty. The clock on the nightstand read 9:11, so she'd sort of slept in, which was weird considering Dean getting up usually woke her right away. But the shower wasn't running. The curtains were still drawn closed.

 _Something's not right._

Elena sat up and looked over the side of the bed where his duffel was and found his keys to the Impala in the front pocket. Nor did she find the grey shirt and black shorts he'd slept in the night before, so he hadn't gone outside. Not in that torrential, frigid downpour without the coat that hung off the side of a chair in the kitchen. His phone was on the nightstand, so calling it was a pretty moot point.

 _Time to call Cas_.

Or, at least she would have, if she hadn't blinked and found herself dressed and not in the motel room anymore.

It looked like a dining room in the most opulent mansion she'd ever stood in. The floors were marble and pristine as the decorated walls and seemingly hand-carved trim. A sofa was the only large furnishing against the wall, opposite of a fireplace on the other side. The place looked of old wealth, but not a speck of dust stained a single ornamental vase or statue.

"It's interesting in some respects, the human mind." Zachariah's voice came from behind her, and his douchey grin was there when she turned around. "How one view of this place differs from one to the next."

"Is this supposed to be Heaven?" she asked.

"A part of it," he allowed. "Think of it as…the lobby."

 _Hey, Cas…your buddy Zachariah took Dean somewhere…he got me too_ , she thought. _I don't know where I am, but if you could try and find me that'd be great…I think I'm in Heaven's lobby, wherever the hell that is._

"How did you find us?"

"You have your allies, we have ours." The angel clasped his arms behind his back and slowly began to pace the room. "You were spotted, put it that way."

Elena crossed her arms in front of her and regarded him coolly.

"Okay. Have we gotten to the part where you tell me why I'm here?" she said. "Where's Dean?"

Zachariah glanced up at her and smiled.

"Not that I _have_ to tell you anything, but Dean…he's on a little trip," he said, and raised a hand when she tensed. "But don't worry. He'll be back. He just needs…a taste of what the future holds if he stays on his path of resistance."

Elena raised her brows incredulously.

"You mean your fucked up War to End all Wars? You mean to tell me you sent him in the _middle_ of all that?"

"Not exactly," the angel said cryptically. "But hopefully he'll get a good look and come to his senses."

"What, you're hoping he'll suddenly think getting possessed is a _good_ idea?" Elena laughed humorlessly. "I'm sure letting your psycho brothers end the world is going to turn out great for everyone."

"And you think it'll be a basket of roses if Lucifer goes unchecked?" asked Zachariah. "What do _you_ think will be the outcome?"

"Sam's his true vessel right?" she said. "If he can't get to Sam, then he can't complete his grand master plan."

"Come on, Elena," Zachariah drawled, stepping closer to her. "Considering what's already happened, don't you think it's just a matter of time?"

The angel was nearly in her personal space when he leant toward her, that insufferable grin making her wish she had a knife to stab it with.

"Sam knows better," she replied tersely.

"You wanna bet money on that?" he asked drolly. "Or better yet, your life? Dean's? The world?"

 _Cas, I think right now would be a pretty good time_ , she thought, and cautiously backed up a couple steps.

"So what's next?" she asked, swallowing to work out the nerves from her voice. Best to keep him talking while she discreetly looked for a weapon, or better yet, an escape hatch. "Unless there's something you haven't told me, you don't need me to be some dickbag's meat suit, so again, why am I here?"

"Dean really goes for the mouthy ones, doesn't he?" the angel sighed to himself. "But you're right. You're pretty useless, in and of yourself."

That threw her for a loop.

"So why—"

The walls beginning to shake cut her off, and while the angel stood impassively she stumbled as she lost her footing. But when she looked up, Castiel was there to help her up. He then pushed her behind him to stand in front of her, his blade brandished as he regarded his brother coldly.

"So nice to see you again, Castiel," Zachariah said, his smile deepening. "Doesn't take much to bring you out of hiding, does it?"

Castiel kept his eyes on him, but addressed the wide-eyed woman behind him.

"Elena, you need to wake up."

She looked up at him in confusion.

"What do you mean I need to wake up? I'm right here!"

"No," he corrected. "Zachariah infiltrated your mind."

"Wasn't all that hard," said the other angel. "Finding _you_ on the other hand, Castiel. Now _that_ took some work. We should've thought of this first."

"Just shake me awake then!" Elena exclaimed.

"I can't," said Cas. "You've been locked deeply within your in your mind. I am prevented from bringing you out of consciousness."

That meant she actually wasn't in Heaven's lobby, or whatever con Zachariah had been trying to pull.

"Then how the fuck do I wake up?" she asked desperately.

"If you manage to climb out of here, and that's a big ' ** _if_** ,' by the time you do, the Winchester brothers will have accepted their fate," said Zachariah. "And then the _real_ fun can start…until then, are you going to come quietly, brother?"

"What do _you_ think?" said Castiel, tensing in his stance. Zachariah sighed.

"Worth a shot."

The angel disappeared, leaving Elena and Cas to stare blankly at one another.

"Where did he go?" she asked finally, breaking the silence.

"Neither of us were actually here—I am not," he explained. "I'm in the motel, warding your room for protection against my brothers while you remain asleep."

"But isn't he after you?"

"Yes," Cas nodded, "Which is why I have to leave. When I finish these wards I will not be able to reach you in here."

"But how am I supposed to get out of my own head?" she said. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Without the full extent of my power I cannot bring you out, but you might be able to escape," he said hurriedly. "You must take back control."

" _How?_ " she exclaimed in exasperation. "I can't Jedi-mind trick myself!"

"Think of it as crawling out of a pit, or walking through a maze," he said. "Look for a door—"

But Castiel vanished, leaving Elena hanging on his unfinished instructions.

"What door?" she asked belatedly. " _Cas!_ "

She made an agonized sound of frustration and slapped a hand to her forehead.

" _Shit._ "

.

* * *

.

"So what, Zack zapped you up here to see how bad it gets?" asked Dean. Or more accurately, Future Dean. Dean from 2009 rotated his wrist from where he was handcuffed to an iron ladder. He looked up at his double with a light shrug.

"Yeah I guess."

Future Dean continued packing his array of guns and confirmed the Croatoan virus as Lucifer's endgame for destroying the world.

"It's efficient, it's incurable, and it's scary as hell. Turns people into monsters," he said. "Started hitting the major cities about two years ago. World really went in the crapper after that."

"What about Sam?"

It was a long time before his older self looked up at him and answered, "Heavyweight showdown it Detroit. From what I understand, Sam didn't make it."

Dean paused, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"You weren't with him?" he asked.

"No," the man replied. "No, me and Sam haven't talked in…hell, five years."

"…We never tried to find him?"

Future Dean's gaze drifted skyward before falling back to his younger counterpart.

"I had other people to worry about."

"…Then Elena, where's she?"

Again, Future Dean hesitated, his face darkening. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"Hey, where are you going?" Dean asked. The other man grabbed his gun from the table in front of him.

"I gotta run an errand."

"Whoa, whoa—you're just gunna leave me here?"

"Yes. I've got a group of twitchy trauma survivors out there with an _apocalypse_ hanging over their heads. The last thing they need to see is a version of the _Parent Trap_ ," Future Dean snarked. "So yeah, you stay on lockdown."

"Okay, all right, fine," Dean conceded. "But you don't have to cuff me, man."

Future Dean ignored him and headed straight for the door.

"Oh _come on_ , you don't trust yourself?" Dean smirked. Future Dean looked back at him with raised brows.

"No. Absolutely not."


	3. Running Alone

**AN: This one was a monster to write, and an even bigger one to edit. For those who are reading this story, I hope you're liking the twists and turns I didn't add to a lot of the chapters in DYR. Let me know what you thought!**

 **The chapter title is by Steve Perry, while the lyrics used in this chapter are by Led Zeppelin.**

* * *

 _ **What It Takes**_

 _III: Running Alone_

" _Hey, you've reached Elena. This is my personal cell, so you must really know me. I probably won't listen to your message so try calling again—_ "

"Already tried," Sam muttered, and let his phone clatter on the dining table. He grabbed the mug of coffee in front of him and took too quick of a sip, and ended up burning the tip of his tongue. He hacked on it a little.

"There's a better way to get third-degree burns," Bobby remarked, and set down a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him before hunkering down in the seat beside him with his own plate. He regarded Sam with thinly veiled pity, then sighed.

"She's probably just—"

"What, sleeping?" Sam asked dryly. "It's 10 am. She's barely ever slept past eight, not even with a hangover."

Bobby sipped his coffee slowly.

"Maybe she's got one," he offered. Sam gave him a withering look. The older hunter rolled his eyes.

"Look, you know you're probably reading too much into this. They're probably on a job."

Sam pushed his eggs around with his fork. He wasn't actually that hungry.

"He doesn't want anything to do with me, Bobby," he said quietly. "Guess she doesn't either."

Not that he was all that surprised, but he'd hoped…well. That was that, anyway.

He ignored the pity in Bobby's eyes.

Well, what he misinterpreted as pity. Really, the old man's soft spot for both brothers twinged at the sorry state of things.

"Come on, boy. You know that ain't her. _Or_ your brother, for that matter."

Sam didn't answer, just stared at his untouched eggs. But eventually he set his fork down and closed his hand around the mug that was still plenty hot to the touch.

It was true that she'd called in once every couple weeks to check up on him, but it hadn't been hard to figure out that she was keeping it from Dean. That alone had him biting against a hot retort last night while on the phone with his brother.

" _At least she doesn't lie to me."_

That was what Dean had slapped him with.

But then again, Sam guessed a phone call to him once in a while paled in comparison to being addicted to demon blood.

Anyway, he couldn't blame Elena for going with his brother. He understood.

But it still hurt, if only half as much as Dean rejecting him had.

He sipped at his coffee and it didn't sting as much now that half his tongue was numb. He let it clink softly on the table and considered its bitter contents with a blank mind.

"Sam," Bobby said, earning his attention. "My door's open to ya. You know that…but do you know what you're gunna do?"

Sam watched the black liquid in his mug swirl, and swirl.

.

* * *

.

 _Wake up. Juuust_ _ **wake up**_ _. It's not that hard._

Apparently for her it was.

"Damn it, Cas. This isn't working!" Elena exclaimed and plopped down on the couch. She couldn't call for help. She couldn't leave, because no matter what Castiel said, there _was no door_ out of this place. And even if she was stuck in her own head, she had no memory of this room, nor did she think the deepest part of her mind was a scene out of _The Haunted Mansion._

How much time had gone by while she sat here on her ass? She was sure time was different here, like it always was in Sci-fi movies.

 _I don't have time for this_ , she realized. Dean was…well, in the future. She didn't exactly trust Zachariah's word, but he would have to bring Dean back eventually. She just needed to get back before the man did anything drastic. Like say yes to Michael.

And she needed to call Sam, get him and his brother in the same room and _talk_. She knew they could work through this, especially after whatever it was Dean was seeing down the road. She needed Sam to know that she was still his friend. She still cared.

She needed to _get_ _ **out**_.

A loud click sounded in the silence. Elena looked up and saw that the fireplace was no longer there, instead replaced by a large, wooden door.

"Take control, huh?" she mused to herself in wonder. She also wondered about the psychological consequences of questioning herself while locked in her own head.

Elena opened the door cautiously, wary of the darkness on the other side. But if she didn't go through, she would probably never be able to leave.

So she walked into the darkness and stepped into a long corridor that looked like her house in Hill City, except different. It was quiet, but not the kind of quiet that meant it was completely empty. The sound of a barrel clicking had dread forming in the pit of her stomach, though she didn't remember why until her feet were halfway to her brother's room.

" _JAMIE!_ "

His surprised brown eyes met hers before his finger slipped and the walls were sprayed red. They soaked in the screams of a much younger version of herself that ran forward and slipped on the slick floor. Small hands shook as they hovered over the body, while panicked gasps dissolved into hysterical tears.

Elena struggled to pull herself away from the blood-soaked room. She stumbled down the hall, crimson staining the floor as her boots skidded across, and made it through the first door she could find before she threw up there in the hall.

She didn't find herself in the tiny coat closet that she had taken refuge in that night. Instead, it was a cold hospital room where another version of herself, a few years older, held a pale and fragile hand. Her father stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder, while a doctor stood by the clicking machines.

" _It's possible she can still hear you,_ " he told them. " _Would you like to say anything?_ "

Jack shook his head and blinked away the mist in his eyes.

" _She already knows._ "

Elena watched the scene for a few seconds more as the doctor began to turn off the machines. She walked away as the heart monitor flat lined, and she followed the exit sign to the elevator even though her body felt too heavy to get there.

 _But do I go up or down?_ she thought, until she remembered Cas's instructions.

" _Think of it as crawling out of a pit, or walking through a maze."_

So she went up. And then she regretted it.

.

* * *

.

"All right look, man. I'm sorry," said Dean. He leaned on the table in front of him and spotted a coin. Or what at first looked like a coin. On further inspection it was a ring of silver with an "A" occupying the space in the center. There was a small hold on the top where a chain could've fit through, which told him it was a necklace. He flipped it between his fingers and noticed subtle scratches along the outer edge of the ring.

"Hey," his future self snapped, and snatched away the pendant quick, slipping it inside his pocket. "Don't touch that."

"What is it?" Dean asked. Future Dean clenched his jaw, reluctance and secrecy showing over his anger.

"Obviously not yours."

"I know. I'm sorry, man, but…I mean…"

Dean couldn't help his curiosity. The other man hesitated, before humorlessly huffing.

"That's right," he murmured. "You don't know her."

"…Who?"

He turned away from Dean, but he just managed to catch him mutter a name.

His future self looked back at him with an unreadable gaze before getting back to pouring two glasses with a fifth of whiskey. He set them down on the table.

"Look," said Dean. "I'm not trying to mess you…or me…us up here—"

"I know."

"It's just been a really wacky weekend."

"Tell me about it."

They each grabbed one and took a long swig.

"What was the mission you were on anyway?"

Future Dean proceeded to take the Colt out of his bag. _The_ Colt. It took the man five years, but he finally got it, and he was going to use it to gank the Devil.

.

* * *

.

Sam didn't know what to do. He couldn't really go back to the bar, didn't really want to at this point. Dean wouldn't return his calls and neither would Elena. Cas…well, he knew Cas was trying to lay low.

Staying at Bobby's was his best shot, though Sam didn't know what good it would do. There was really no way to track the Colt at this point, and he didn't want to just hunt _anything_. Not without Dean.

But if this really was the end…he wanted _something_ of what was leftin his life to mean something.

" _Hello?_ "

"Hey…it's me."

" _Sam?_ "

"Yeah," he laughed weakly. "It's good to hear your voice."

" _God, it's good to hear yours…I mean, I haven't heard from you in…_ "

"I know, I know. It's…it's a long story," he said, apology in his voice. He meant it too.

" _Well…I've got a couple hours. My bedtime was hours ago anyway._ "

He smiled at the teasing note in her voice, though recognized the concern there.

"First, uh…I just want to say I'm sorry."

"… _Why? I mean, I understand you're…busy and everything—_ "

"That too," he said and sighed. "Just…promise me something, Sarah."

" _Okay…_ "

"I can't tell you everything now, but when I do, can you…can you promise me you'll hear me out?"

There was a brief quiet on the other line, but eventually she said,

" _Only if you promise to tell me in person._ "

.

* * *

.

"Why _are_ you taking me?" Dean asked when Cas and Risa were gone. He really wanted to ask about why that chick was hanging around, or more pointedly why they were hanging around that chick. He wanted to ask about Elena and Bobby and a dozen other things, but settled on what was about to go down here and now.

"Relax, you'll be fine." Future Dean looked up at him from his task of packing his bag. "Zack's looking out for you, right?"

"No, that's not what I mean…I want to know what's going on."

He glanced at Dean again and relented, knowing he was too stubborn to let it go if he had a suspicious feeling.

"Yeah, okay…you're coming because I want you to see somethin'," he said, and at Dean's questioning look, "I want you to see our brother."

.

* * *

.

It was walking into one terrible memory after another; almost getting mugged on a late night getting back from school when she was fifteen, her first (ex-)boyfriend dumping her after nearly a year because he'd found someone who wasn't "so emotionally distant," and the night in Utah she'd previously been doing a decent job at not thinking about. After stumbling out of the cave, instead of the meeting the clear night, she was standing in the middle of a nice family house with wood flooring that was covered in blood and gouged into splinters.

Elena closed her eyes and could hear both Sam and herself crying. She didn't need to look to know who they were mourning over.

 _I'm going through my worst memories_ , she reasoned, in order to keep herself sane. _Because it's the deepest part of my mind. The farther I get, the closer I should be to…anything else but this. But how do I get there from here?_

She was done reliving the shittiest parts of her life.

Over Sam's gasping, shuddering sounds she squeezed her eyes shut and willed the scene to be gone. The door opened and Bobby's heavy steps fell behind her and she thought even harder, her fingers tangling in her hair by the roots. Still she could hear Castiel's voice.

" _You must take back control."_

"I'm… _ **trying!**_ "

 _No more memories._

 _No more._

 _No more..._

She opened her eyes, and she was standing in the middle of a backyard. A cool April wind tousled her loose hair and the skirt of a blue dress she was now wearing. The smell of barbeque greeted her nose and she turned to see Dean at a grill, placing slices of cheese on burgers that looked over well-done with Val holding buns on standby.

"The cow's scorched to hell, Dean," she said. "And my stomach's not getting any less empty."

"Would you shut up already?" Dean grouched. "I'm trying to concentrate."

Elena looked over the picnic table in the center of the yard covered in a white tablecloth that a baby in Sam's lap was trying to spill the ketchup onto. Sam shifted the baby in his arms and laughed at something Sarah whispered into his ear.

"The cheese is melting on the grill," Val commented.

"If it bothers you that much, scrape it off yourself."

She ignored him in favor of calling out to her brother.

"Matty, you want a hot dog or a burger?"

The boy looked up from his game of checkers with a non-wheelchair bound Bobby.

"Hot dog!"

"Ey, Sammy," Dean called out. "Stop gossiping with your girlfriend and help me get the grub on the table."

Sam rolled his eyes and handed off the baby girl to Sarah, who smiled and fixed the child's headband.

"Hey, I'm the one babysitting your kid," he shot back. "She's got a thing for knocking the condiments over."

"She likes the colors," Dean said absently and handed the man a large plate full of smoking patties. "Elena back with the cups, or are we drinking straight from the liter?"

Elena looked down and in her left hand was a plastic bag of Styrofoam cups. Only then did she notice two rings were on her finger.

 _What in the hell…_

"There she is—Lena! You want your burger crispy or charcoal?" Dean asked with a smirk. After a moment to get over her shock, she smiled hesitantly. She didn't know what it was, but something within her just knew she had seen this before, had _been_ here before.

So she went with it.

Elena set the cups on the table and came over to the grill.

"Charcoal sounds a bit much," she said with a smile, "But crispy might be just right."

 _This isn't a memory_ , she realized. _This…this is a dream._

She knew because it was somewhat familiar, like she'd dreamt it but forgot it in the morning before she could remember. Or this could be Zachariah fucking with her head.

 _Wake up._

Dean kissed her, and they sat beside Sam and Sarah at the table with Dean placing the baby in her high chair.

"We should do Fourth of July more often," Sam said with a smile.

 _You need to wake up._

"Yeah, we should," Dean agreed. "Gives me an excuse to blow some shit up."

Val gave him an annoyed look when Matt giggled.

"Oh, don't even give me that face," said Dean. "Like you don't talk like you were raised in a bar."

"Me?" Her expression was scandalized, but the mirth in her eyes was unmistakable. "Curse in front of the children? Never."

"I've got some firecrackers in the trunk," said Bobby. Dean's face lit up with excitement.

"After we eat," Elena measured him with a glance. He only grinned and leaned toward her, prodding her ticklish sides a little. She yelped and pushed his hands away through laughter.

 _Wake up._

.

* * *

.

Lightning flashed and it thundered in his ears, shaking the ground the slightest bit and startling him. Dean turned and a hand was reaching out to him.

He blinked and came face to face with Zachariah in the motel hallway.

"Well if it isn't the ghost of Christmas Screw You," Dean said, still somewhat shaky.

"Dean, enough," said the angel. "You saw it right? You saw what happens. You're the only person who can prove the Devil wrong. Just say yes."

"And how do I know this whole thing isn't one of your _tricks?_ " Dean seethed. "Huh? Some angel hocus pocus."

"The time for tricks is over. Give yourself to Michael." Zachariah stepped forward. "Say yes and we can _strike_ , before Lucifer gets to Sam. Before billions die."

Dean was quiet for a while, weighing his options. Eventually he looked up at the angel coolly.

"Nah."

Zachariah looked one straw away from having a coronary.

" _Nah?_ " he repeated. "You haven't learned your lesson?"

"Oh, I learned a lesson, all right," said Dean. "Just not the one you wanted to _teach_."

"Well I'll just have to _teach it again!_ "

Dean was just about to tense for a fight he knew he couldn't win when he blinked and no one was screaming at him anymore. He turned and found Cas smiling knowingly at him.

"That's pretty nice timing, Cas," he smiled in relief.

"We had an appointment," the angel replied. Dean's smile quirked into a grin, until he remembered something.

"Where's Elena?" Worry began to seep into his tone as he realized Zachariah could've gotten to her too.

"She's safe now," said Castiel. "I can bring you to her."

"…Yeah, that'd be—"

Angels, man. They just liked zapping the shit out of people. At least they were at Singer Salvage and Cas managed to zap the Impala before he found Dean.

"Thanks, man," he said, and after a brief hesitation, he put his hand on the angel's shoulder. "Don't ever change."

Castiel smiled.

"I believe that's what friends do."

And then he was gone, leaving Dean standing on Bobby's driveway. He knocked on the door and was nearly knocked over by Elena.

"You're okay," she breathed. He held her to him tightly, relishing in the feel of her hands in his hair and her voice in his ear.

"Now I am," he admitted, and smiled at Bobby who was smiling a bit for the first time that he'd seen in the past month. "Hey, Bobby."

"Hey, son. Come on in when she's done squeezing the life out of ya."

.

* * *

.

He met up with Sam the next day with Elena waiting at Bobby's house. He could tell she'd wanted to come, but without him asking she stayed, knowing that Dean needed time to iron things out with his brother. She promised she would come meet them at whatever motel the decided to stay at that night, but if they didn't call by the afternoon she'd take her Camaro out to the bridge and come get them herself.

Dean resisted the urge to greet Sam more warmly at seeing the abnormally subdued look on his face. It was all Sam, no matter how humbled, how serious he was to prove he could make it up to Dean. When in reality, Dean didn't care as much about that as he used to (though that was still there, and allowed him to keep his distance).

"What changed your mind?" Sam asked eventually.

Dean thought about it. It wasn't just the new world population of Croats, dilapidated cities and a stoned Cas that finally managed it.

.

* * *

.

" _No. No…there's gotta be another way," Dean denied. His counterpart's expression was grim, for the first time revealing the layers of emotion so long buried under a callous exterior._

" _Yeah, that's what I thought," he said. "I was cocky. Never actually thought I'd lose."_

 _He paused, swallowing._

" _And then I lost everything…" His gaze drifted. "_ _ **Right**_ _in front of me."_

 _Dean's eyes widened marginally as he read between the lines._

 _He shook his head because he didn't want to hear the rest._

" _No—"_

" _He decided I was…bein' a 'nuisance.' More trouble than I was worth."_

 _The hardened man's words were as if they were a direct quote. No part of Dean wanted to acknowledge that they probably were. His future self looked away from him, relieving him from the full weight of pain in those eyes._

" _He was waiting for me when I finally found her."_

 _Dean didn't want to know what happened, almost as much as this Dean didn't want to say what he was obviously reliving in his mind. It was written across his face when he looked back up at Dean, held Dean's gaze until he shook his head again and was prepared to walk away from him._

 _His future self wouldn't let him, and stepped into his personal space._

" _Don't want to hear it, do you?" he asked. Dean didn't answer, only stared at his doppelganger coldly._

" _We killed her."_

" _What do you mean?" Dean asked, though he wished he hadn't._

" _We didn't pull the trigger but we sure as hell let it happen," he said, his green eyes dulled with pain just able to break the surface of a hardened façade. "Too busy tryin' to fight the whole fucking world."_

 _He grabbed the front of Dean's shirt and shoved him against the wall, though not hard enough for Dean to lose his ground._

" _And he made us watch."_

 _Future Dean let him go and backed off, but held his counterpart's gaze._

" _I'm beggin' you," he said. "…just say yes."_

 _His voice was steady, but his mouth trembled as his cold front broke for that one moment._

 _Dean didn't want to watch the mangled, broken man that was staring back at him so sharply. Eventually he turned away._

" _But you won't," he said knowingly. The wall came back into place. "Cause_ _ **I**_ _didn't. Because that's just not us, is it?"_

.

* * *

.

"It's a long story."

Sam tilted his head questioningly.

"Like…"

"Sam," Dean cut him off gently. "I thought things over."

 _Dean heard a crunching sound, bone against bone._

 _Then a face he knew turned, and smiled with an expression that was foreign to that face. His little brother's face._

" _Oh…hello, Dean."_

Sam nodded hesitantly, not willing to press it. Dean was relieved for it. He heard his own words he said to Elena only last night echoing in his head. He had explained it in the briefest facts, sparing the details, but enough that she'd gotten the gist of what happened.

" _I saw…myself. And…I saw Sam."_

.

* * *

.

" _I like you, Dean. I get what the other angels see in you." Lucifer smiled again. That smile that spoke of sincerity but always laced with condescension. "Goodbye. We'll meet again soon."_

 _He began to walk away, but despite Dean's threats that he better not wait to kill him, Sam…no._ _ **Lucifer**_ _remained unaffected, casual and simplistically honest._

" _I won't stop," Dean promised through tears. Sam's body turned back around, a smooth pivot that his lumbering brother would never have accomplished._

" _I know you won't. You won't say yes to Michael. And you won't kill Sam," he said. "Whatever you do, we will always end up…here."_

 _Lucifer gestured to the rose garden in which they stood._

" _You will try, with everything you have in you. To save your brother. To save your girl. Bobby…" Dean's jaw clenched, and Sam's face gazed on him pityingly. "Annie."_

 _Dean's frustration grew along with his confusion and anger. The archangel wasn't slow to notice._

" _Who's—"_

" _It doesn't matter," said Lucifer. "Whatever decisions you make…I win."_

 _His sympathetic, yet cavalier way made Dean's blood boil. Especially as Lucifer smiled again._

" _So I win."_

.

* * *

.

The way Dean saw it, saying "yes" to Michael wouldn't solve anything. Neither would cutting out his brother from his life. As long as both of them were on the same page, they could handle whatever came next.

"Look, maybe we are each other's Achilles heel. Maybe they'll find a way to use us against each other, I don't know," he said. "I just know we're all we've got. More than that, we keep each other human."

"…Thank you," Sam said earnestly. "Really, thank you. I won't let you down."

"Oh, I know it," said Dean, and with a slight smirk. "I mean, you are the second best hunter on the planet."

Sam smiled and his hands went into his pockets.

"So what do we do now?"

"We make our own future."

Sam shrugged.

"Guess we have no choice."

"Nah," said Dean. "We do."

.

* * *

.

She parked next to the Impala, big and black and sleek compared to her smaller midnight blue car. It needed a good wash, that was for sure, but her car ran better now after Dean and Bobby had fixed it than when her dad drove it.

The Impala was that kind of car though. Classic, but with an edge—exuding confidence even as it sat dormant on the pavement.

Sometimes, when Dean's back was turned, Elena would run her fingers along the side of its hood—like she was doing now—and admire Baby's striking features. She didn't know much about cars, save for a few makes and models and basic repairs, but Elena knew this was one powerful fucking car.

Secretly she wondered what it would be like to get behind the wheel; the worn leather smooth under her hands, the rumble of the engine underfoot making the entire car hum.

Elena eyed the driver's seat with a sigh.

Only to gasp and jump when hands smoothed down her shoulders and sides and stopped just above her hips. But she didn't fight the hold. She knew those hands.

"I knew you were with me for my car," his voice rumbled in her ear. She suppressed the pleasant shiver that decided to run up her spine. He pressed her back against his chest as his thumbs stroked her sensitive sides. It was distracting.

She cleared her throat and struggled past both embarrassment and what she knew he was trying to do.

"Caught me," she managed, and shifted the bag of fast food in her hands. Through their reflection in the window, Elena could see Dean's patented smirk close to her ear. It deepened when his eyes met hers.

"You comin' in anytime soon?" he asked mildly. The look on his face was anything but. She swallowed.

"Depends."

"On?"

"If you've got plans after dinner." Again, his eyes flicked up to hers in the window. Her expression was mostly blank, save for the small curl at the corner of her mouth.

"Hmm," he trailed, his fingers just brushing under the hem of her tank top. "Not really."

Slowly he turned her in his arms, letting his hands skim against her skin.

"Wanna go for a drive after?" he asked. She gave a teasing smile.

"Do I get to drive?"

Dean's laugh was genuine, making her pout.

"Aw, come on," she tilted her head up and pressed a kiss along his jaw line. "I promise I'll be gentle."

He smirked knowingly, though his hold on her tightened marginally when she started down his neck.

"Where have I heard _that_ before?" he mused sardonically. He peeled her away from him with difficulty, ignoring her whining and laughter and steered her purposefully toward the motel room.

Once inside, things were slightly tense as Sam and Elena stared at one another.

Until she went to where he stood in the kitchen and hugged him. He was surprised, but hugged her back, meeting Dean's eyes over her head. Dean grinned a little and shrugged, grabbing the bag of food she left on the counter.

"Good to see you," Sam said to her, a small smile curving his lips. She pulled away and patted his arm.

"You too, Sam."

.

* * *

.

It was kind of hard to concentrate on driving when Elena got impatient. Normally, her humming along with whatever music playing was commonplace. But for the first time since…ever, really, Dean let her flip through his exclusively Zeppelin tapes (those he usually handled himself with care). She settled on one that immediately drew his eyes to her after she popped it in and scanned through to nearly the last track. Then she sat back and propped her elbow with her other arm under her chest.

" _You need coolin', baby, I'm not foolin'. I'm gunna send you back to schoolin'…_ "

Before leaving the motel, Dean, as briefly as he could, asked Sam to look for their next job while he and Elena went for a drive. Sam had given him a raised brow of slight confusion, but wisely decided not to question it, just nodded with a "sure" and a reserved smile.

Now Dean's gaze zoned in on her fingers that tapped idly on her lips. Then to perceptive gray eyes that caught him watching her. He was forced to focus back on the road so he wouldn't miss the curve. They were about to hit the outskirts of the city, soon to be nothing but forest on either side of the road.

" _Way down inside, honey, you need it._ "

Dean could hear her shifting in the seat, denim sliding against leather.

Then those fingers, light and with the subtle scratch of nails, grazed up and down his thigh. The muscles there tensed, his body reacting to her without her even having touched skin yet. They started drifting up and warning bells sounded in his head.

Dean's hand left the wheel to grab hers from their dangerous path. He cleared his throat and glanced at her sideways.

"Keep doin' that 'n we won't make it there."

Her only change in expression was the slight curve of her lips. Elena remained quiet, save for her humming, but her thumb began stroking the hand that held hers, slowly. It was distracting, momentarily making him lose focus on why he was holding it still in the first place. She eased out of his grasp and began similarly grazing his hand. From his wrist over his knuckles, and down to the tips of his fingers.

" _You've been learnin', baby, I've been yearnin'…_ "

It raised the hairs on his arms, but he tried with all he had in him to keep still and drive.

Dean heard the belt buckle click, and soon her soft humming was much closer. He swallowed, feeling her breath on his neck. It was just his luck that they'd made it to where he'd set out to go.

With a quick check in his side mirrors, he confirmed that there were next to no cars driving past the heavily forested area. He wrapped an arm around Elena's waist to steady her and pulled in to where there was a break in the dense trees, where branches were too high to scratch Baby's paint job. A soft gasp fell from her lips at what lay in view.

From the brush was a scattering of small lakes with overhanging trees that allowed the setting sun to streamline onto the water's surface. Elena turned to him with a gentler smile, her fingers sliding through his hair and resting at the base of his neck.

"You look surprised," he said smugly. She smirked.

"A little."

"What, can't do something for my girlfriend?"

Her brows rose higher, but her smirk evened out again into a smile.

"That's the first time you've called me that," she remarked, and ran a hand down to his chest to start on the buttons. His smirk was teasing, but his eyes were fond, almost soft.

"Like that, huh?" His hands were hot roaming down her hips.

"Hmm, what do you know," she mused. "You're a romantic after all."

" _All them good times, baby, I've been yearnin'…_ "

His answering grin was playful, but with an edge that had anticipation running up her spine.

"You'd like to think that." His hand then slid under the hem of her shirt, pushing it up on her back. "But this is as elaborate as it gets."

She cocked her head to the side.

"That's okay. I don't need much more than this."

"Hmm. Aren't you easy to please," Dean teased. She shrugged with a smile.

"Caught me."

He smirked, and she let him lead her to the backseat.

It was also the only time he let her climb over the upholstery.

" _All the good times I've been misusin'. Way, way down inside, I'm gunna give you my love…_ "

A flurry of hands pulled at clothes and explored every inch of skin that had already long been discovered by the other. Kisses that didn't quite align and a couple head-bumps on the car ceiling had them occasionally laughing. Mostly because it was like they were two teenagers in some back road with a well-known reputation as a make-out spot. But at the same time, it wasn't like that at all.

" _Wanna whole lotta love…_ "

"How'd you know," Dean managed, after she'd wrestled him for the position on top and he finally let her pin him down. "This was my favorite Zep song?"

A little smirk played at her lips. Her fingers ghosted down his body and started on his belt buckle as she bent down to his ear.

"'Cause it's mine too." The belt slid off and she sat up to examine the leather. Her face was thoughtful until her eyes flicked up to his that widened a little in pleasant surprise.

"Don't worry," she said with a smirk. "I promise I'll be gentle."


	4. Roll with the Changes

**AN: Chapter title by REO Speedwagon.**

* * *

 _ **What It Takes**_

 _IV: Roll with the Changes_

Three weeks and they were stopping in Canton, Ohio with a "fresh start" after dropping Elena's Camaro back at Bobby's house. Though to Sam's annoyance it wasn't so fresh as Dean had made it out to be in the beginning. It brought him to the point of venting to Elena while they researched the nuts he found in the corpse they were working on. Dean, thankfully, was out getting food.

"It's not entirely fair," Elena agreed with him quietly, "But you can see where he's coming from, right?"

"Of course I do," said Sam. "But this isn't going to work if he keeps treating me like a little kid."

"That may be true," she said, rubbing at her tired eyes, "But you know he's…still trying to get over what happened. Just give him some time."

"You seem to be taking it better than he is," Sam commented after a moment.

"I didn't grow up taking care of you," Elena pointed out. "But I know you're sorry and…you're Sam again."

He smiled a little, pausing from the article on his computer to glance over at her.

"Yeah…guess I am," he nodded.

They spent a few minutes in silence as they sifted through databases and websites, but eventually Sam once again broke the silence.

"Dean didn't mention specifics, but…I know something happened to change his mind." He looked down at the keyboard of his laptop before meeting her gaze. "Why did you forgive me?"

Sam knew she didn't have to, though he suspected she had a hand in influencing Dean's decision. Bobby even later hinted that she might've gone to bat for him.

Elena sighed and pushed away from her laptop, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Sam…you've been my friend for a long time. You've proven it," she said. "And I haven't always been there for you…but you're the closest thing I've had to a brother in a long time."

Sam's eyes widened marginally at seeing the mist in hers. But she blinked it away and turned back to her laptop.

"So let's just both try and not fuck it up," she finished. It made him crack a smile.

"Sure," he said. After a moment he bumped his shoulder with hers. She elbowed him in the ribs with a warning raise of her brow. His hand was poised to tug on her ponytail until she said,

"Touch me one more time and friendship be damned, I'm pouring Nair in your shampoo."

"…That's a bit extreme."

"Don't tempt me."

.

* * *

.

Once they found Paris Hilton as the culprit (really a Leshii, a pagan god) and effectively ganked her, they were off to Alliance, Nebraska. Elena slept nearly the whole twenty hours, waking up long enough for coffee while her stomach was too queasy for food. She chalked it up to not sleeping well the past few days, and attributed the stomach ache to the raw ham Dean baked with a joybuzzer.

Townsfolk in Alliance were getting killed by itching powder and getting their teeth ripped out by unseemly Tooth Fairies. That's where they found the Antichrist in the form of an adopted ten-year-old boy named Jesse. Unfortunately, calling Cas didn't solve things; it made it worse as the angel had the firm belief that killing the boy was the only option to save Heaven and Earth from Jesse's power, if he so chose to use it.

But even with his demon-possessed birth mother trying to convince him to join her and serve Lucifer, he still chose to hear Sam out and hear the truth from both sides. Jesse still made the right decision, even if it meant leaving his family, the life he had known. He chose to disappear, even from the hunters. Castiel wasn't happy about it, but conceded that he would be hidden from both angels and demons, unless he wanted to be found.

Bobby clued them in to their next case: a fifteen-hour drive that Elena couldn't stay awake for, which didn't make much sense since she slept like a rock the night before. Dean had to shake her awake in the morning with a "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty! Your pumpkin carriage is ready and waiting!"

"Your face is a pumpkin carriage," she muttered.

"What was that?"

"That's Cinderella, you dumbass."

"Whatever, we've got shit to do today. Get your ass up."

She'd grumpily forced herself out of bed and on the road with a cup of complimentary instant coffee. It tasted like dirt and looked like sewage, but it kept her alive for all of three hours before she was stretched out in the backseat. This time it was Sam that shook her into consciousness.

"Hey, we're here, gunna check in and change into our suits," he said. "Might wanna get fresh."

She nodded and ambled out of the Impala, squinting at the too-bright sun on her way into the motel. After posing as CDC to get some information at the morgue—a twenty-five-year-old man who died of old age, looking like the Crypt Keeper—and a phone call to Bobby, they were on their way to visit the widow of another victim. As it turned out, her husband was very much alive, and thirty years younger, all because of a travelling poker game headed by a witch named Patrick. The only problem was finding him.

The three hunters split up to check out each dive in town, but after a few hours and several bars later, neither Elena or Sam could find anything. When they ended up in the same bar, Sam called Dean, who told them to call it a night and meet back at the motel. They stopped at a Burger King along the way, but found an eighty-something-year-old man in Dean's robe.

It was a bit of a shock, but when Bobby wheeled in through the front door and started filling in the missing gaps of Dean's story with his usual snark and sass, both Sam and Elena were disappointed (though understanding) in Bobby, and in Dean for not calling them before making such a rash decision of playing the odds with a witch. But eventually they came to a consensus in finding Patrick's magic chips.

They waited for the witch to leave the bar before following him to his apartment, where he not long after came back out, driving off in a pristine car that he'd stolen only half an hour before. The building's elevator was out of order, leaving Bobby to wait in the lobby while the three hunters made their way up the stairs. Sam and Elena stood at the second floor sign, looking down at Dean, who was struggling.

"Need some help?" Elena offered with a smile, to which Dean only glared up at her.

"Laugh it up," he huffed. "You're the one dating an old man pushing ninety…and I'm not even rich."

"Save your breath, grandpa," she teased, though that was a perturbing thought. "We've got a few more floors to go."

By the time they got to the seventh floor, the poor man was practically wheezing, but they got into Patrick's apartment without any difficulty. It was finding the chips that was taking forever, until Dean found a hidden safe in a large armoire. Sam eventually got it open and pushing Dean and his failing eyesight out of the way, but they were stopped by a young blonde woman Dean recognized from the bar.

"I'm a lot more than that," she said, and with a gesture of her hand, it felt like their insides were being tied in knots.

"It's okay, sweetheart, they're harmless," came an Irish drawl that stopped the pain, but didn't stop the wave of nausea that hit Elena. She grabbed onto the armoire to steady herself.

"You boys want chips? Take 'em," said Patrick. "They're just _chips_ , einsteins. It's showmanship. This may come as a shock, but the magic does not lie in a pile of crappy plywood, or any phony abracadabra. It's in the _nine hundred_ -year-old witch. You guys want years you earn 'em the old fashioned way: Texas Holdem."

"Fine," said Dean. "Let's do it."

Patrick smiled a little and pulled an Eight of Hearts out of his pocket.

"What card am I holding up?"

Dean squinted, trying to read the card, but remained quiet when he realized the witch's point.

"That's what I thought," said Patrick. "If your eyesight's that bad, how about your memory? I'm not a murderer."

Then his attention went to Sam and Elena. Both were ready and willing, though Elena was still trying to fight the urge to upchuck her dinner.

"Either of you, on the other hand…"

Dean glanced back at them and shook his head.

"No."

"Dean," Sam protested.

"What, Sam ain't much of a player?" asked the witch. "Okay, well, happy trails, Dean. Enjoy the twilight of your life…should've taken better care of that ticker though."

He opened the door of his apartment and looked over at them expectantly.

"You're free to go."

Dean made his way out with Elena behind him, though Patrick stopped him, stopped all of them, by calling his name.

"You're brother's situation, now that's punishment enough. His girl here doesn't look so well either, but I can't let you leave without a small parting gift."

He clapped slow, three times, though nothing happened.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked warily.

"You'll find out soon enough," the witch winked.

.

* * *

.

"You're pale."

"Dean, I'm fine."

"Then why would he say that?"

Elena sighed and tried not to lean as heavily on the railing as she wanted to as they made their way down the stairs.

"That blonde chick almost rearranged our insides. My body didn't exactly think it was a party."

Meanwhile, Sam was walking funny all the way down to the lobby, trying to stretch his pants, though he couldn't figure out what the hell was wrong that was making his crotch burn.

"Dude," said Dean. "I think that he-witch gave you the Clap."

While Sam, Dean and Bobby argued outside, Elena was in the bathroom, puking her guts out. Though this time there was an adequate excuse, it was the fourth time this week that she was this sick.

 _What's_ _ **wrong**_ _with me?_

She'd been careful to hide it from the brothers, using the bathroom in Dunkin Donuts or the pubic motel bathroom rather than the one inside the room. Part of her didn't want them to worry unnecessarily, but there was part of her that was suspicious of something that she hoped to God wasn't the problem.

So she washed her mouth out and joined the guys outside.

"…I'm saying is, I know this guy. I know his style, I can take him," said Bobby. Sam had his hands on his hips and a steaming bitchface and Elena knew this couldn't be good.

"No, Bobby," said Dean. "You don't have enough years in the bank."

"I've got enough."

"Are you crazy?" asked Elena. "You'll die if you lose!"

" _So what if I do,_ huh? What _exactly_ am I living for, the goddamn _Apocalypse?_ " he exclaimed. "Watching men die bloody while I sit in this chair, can't take a step to help 'em?"

"Bobby, come on," Dean started while Elena remained in shock.

"No, no. It's the facts. I'm old," said Bobby, his breathing labored with emotion. "I'm broke down…I _ain't a hunter_ no more. I'm useless. And if I wasn't such a coward, I'd stuck a bullet in my head the day I got home from the hospital."

Elena's breath hitched, her eyes burning enough that she couldn't blink back tears at what he was suggesting. Dean had to look away from his surrogate father, while Sam struggled for words to say.

"Bobby, you're not playing again…I'm not…I'm not letting you do that," he said. "There's gotta be another way out of this. And I'm going to find it."

He left them in front of the motel and walked into town. It was only a couple streets over, but that left the three hunters to deal with the blonde waiting for them in the motel room with a scrap of paper with some kind of incantation and ingredients. Supposedly the "most powerful reversal spell" they'd ever laid their eyes on that would undo all of Patrick's work. She had her reasons for helping them, even though it would affect her too, but she was tight-lipped about it and left them with a tricky spell to cast.

Getting the jawbone of a murderer, for instance, required a visit to the local cemetery and a long few hours of grave-digging. Bobby sat watch while Dean and Elena were getting close to six feet under, despite Dean's bellyaching.

"You know this really sucks," he said. "How do we know her spell's even gunna work?"

"We don't," said Bobby. "But we ain't got a Plan B. So less flappin' and more diggin'."

Dean begrudgingly picked up his shovel again, but striking at a rock put a crick in his back that had Bobby rolling his eyes and Elena sighing.

"Hurry up, crybaby," he said dryly. Dean glared over his shoulder at him.

"Pound it up your ass, Ironside."

Bobby raised his brows while Elena was hard-pressed to restrain a laugh.

"One little grave. You don't see anyone else complaining."

Dean stuck his shovel into the dirt.

"Then _you_ do it!"

"Oh, yeah, I'll hop right in."

"Well at least your legs are numb."

"Shut up and dig, grandma."

"…Fucking hell, now it's my _back_ …"

Elena dug her shovel into the dirt and laid one hand on his shoulder, the other going to his lower back while he was bent over.

"Can you straighten up?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, but a little sympathy wouldn't hurt!"

"And what am _I_ doing?" asked Elena. He smiled up at her sheepishly.

"Butt cheek tingling?" Bobby continued.

"…That's kinda personal."

"So yeah?"

Dean didn't respond, but it was kind of obvious Bobby hit it on the nose.

"It's sciatica. You'll live," he said. "Keep diggin'."

"You know, Bobby. Killing you is officially on my bucket list."

Elena sighed and went back to digging.

.

* * *

.

"Does your big brother know you're here?" Patrick asked. Sam bet five years, tossing five chips into the center. "Didn't think so. I raise."

The witch bet ten.

"Here you are, right? Tryin' to clean up _their_ mess, and they still want to sit you in the kiddie table," he continued. "You're not the little brother anymore, Sam. Then again…maybe you are."

Sam remained as blank as possible despite Patrick's grin.

"You're in over your head here, Sam. I mean, you can keep playing these moves—you know, playin' it cautious, playin' the percentages, but I'm still going to kick your ass into the nursing home."

"Does this armchair psychology usually work for you?" asked Sam. Patrick laughed and set down the toothpick from between his lips, and then his drink.

"You tell me," he said. "You're the one who's losin'."

.

* * *

.

They played until his blonde girlfriend came into the room, greeting Patrick with a kiss and a smile, after which he called a break. Sam met Dean outside and brought him the pick he swiped: the last ingredient for the spell in some of Patrick's DNA.

"Sammy," Dean said, before his brother went back in the bar. "Don't lose."

Sam nodded once, and they went their separate ways. Dean went over to the van Bobby brought, which Dean was grateful for. He wasn't about to let an open flame inside Baby. Bobby recited the incantation and Dean dropped the pick in the bowl. The small fire inside raised for a moment and finally lit blue, but other than that, nothing happened.

"Everything we put in that spell was kosher," said Bobby.

"Everything except that damn toothpick," Dean groused.

"Let's go to his apartment," said Elena. "There's got to be something there we can use."

"Strap on your track shoes," Bobby told Dean, who's expression turned even more sour at remembering the stairs.

"Oh, goody."

In another twenty minutes, they were up the seven flights and back in the witch's apartment, though the rooms were ridiculously clean.

"This is the first witch I've met that doesn't spill bodily fluids every-goddamn-where," he grouched to Bobby over the phone. He put it on speaker so Elena could hear from where she was in the bathroom.

"Find a toothbrush, comb, _anything._ "

"Does he keep all that shit in a safe too?" said Elena. "I don't see anything. The cabinets are empty."

She heard a loud thud that echoed in the empty apartment and ran back into the living room.

" _Dean!_ " she exclaimed, and knelt on the floor beside him. He clutched at his heart with one hand and was reaching out to her with the other as he gasped for air. He grabbed her shoulder and tried turning her around, weakly pointing behind her.

"Glass…" he wheezed out. She looked over her shoulder and saw the used wine glass on the table.

"I'll be back," she promised, and grabbed the glass. But just as she would've started running down the stairs, Dean's voice stopped her. The voice she recognized—the one she _knew_. It ran through her and sent shivers down her spine and all the way down to her toes.

.

* * *

.

"Dean," Bobby called into the phone. " _Dean_ , you there? …Dean… _ **damn it**_ _, Dean!_ "

He heard a feminine laugh and looked out his window, seeing his almost-son with his arm around his niece. He waved ridiculously at Bobby and picked Elena up bridal style despite her vocal protests. He twirled them a few times before setting her down, laughing at her expense when she backhanded his chest, yet held onto him while her balance was still skewed.

"Idgits," Bobby muttered.

.

* * *

.

"No tricks. You actually _beat_ the guy," he asked Sam incredulously, who shrugged. "How in the hell…"

"Just lucky," Sam replied, smiling, and went to the motel door to grab his jacket. Dean passed him at the doorway, cheeseburger in hand. "I'll see you guys later."

"Where you going?" he asked.

"Um…nowhere…" At the other three hunters' skeptical looks, he caved and pointed at his brother. "A booster shot. _Don't_ say it."

Dean tried not to laugh as he watched Sam go.

"Well, guess we can load up the van," Bobby said. "Elena's in the bathroom getting' ready to go."

Dean held up a finger while he finished chewing, but eventually said,

"I shouldn't have called you an idiot."

"Which time?"

Dean gave a dry look.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. "I mean I actually…I get it. Gettin' old ain't a bachelor party…and dealing with the crap you gotta deal with—"

"Don't you go on pity patrol," Bobby cut him off.

"I'm not," Dean insisted. "I'm not, I just…I'm saying if I was in your shoes—"

"You'd never stop complaining."

Dean met Bobby's eyes and nodded in agreement.

"Fair enough…" His expression then grew more serious. "You're not useless, Bobby."

The older hunter gave a fake smile.

"Okay," he said, and began to roll to the door. "Good talk."

"Wait, wait, listen to me," Dean said, moving to stand in his way, then pulled a chair from the nearby table and sat in front of Bobby. "You don't stop bein' a soldier because you got wounded in battle. No matter what shape you're in, bottom line is, you're _family_. Now I don't know if you've noticed, but Sam and me? Elena? We don't have much left."

Dean felt the burn behind his eyelids but he fought it off, remembering what the old man in front of him said, knowing he meant it.

"I can't do this without you," he admitted. "I can't. So don't you _dare_ think about checkin' out…I don't want to hear that again."

Bobby still remembered how they looked at him. Shocked. He remembered his own surprise, them looking like that, with his niece crying. In that moment he saw an echo of his wife in that expression of pain in her eyes. It had been a while since he had something like that pointed at him—that kind of caring. That someone would actually give a shit if he offed himself, let alone _needed_ him.

"Okay," he said quietly.

"Okay," Dean replied. "Good."

"Thanks…now we done feelin' our feelings?" asked Bobby. "Because I'd like to get out of this room before both of us start growin' lady parts."

The bathroom door opened, and Elena came out and grabbed her duffel from where it sat on the table.

"What's so wrong with that?" she teased over Dean's laughter.

"Yeah, we're done," said Dean. He stood and grabbed his own bag. "Let's go, Ironside."

"Oh, so _that_ one's stickin' huh?"

Dean winked at him and headed toward the car. Elena grabbed the handles of Bobby's wheelchair, though she paused just before the doorway.

"Bobby."

"Yeah."

"I'll never not need you," she said. "Just so you know."

"…Good to know."

"Glad you understand."

.

* * *

.

A week later and they were in Wellington, Ohio investigating a murder that looked suspiciously like "just deserts." It had the Trickster written all over it, and they were right. They just weren't expecting Sam's plan of recruiting the Trickster to help them against Lucifer to go so utterly in the crapper, trapping them in the creature's own personal TV Land. But by "playing their roles" and with some help from Cas, they were able to figure out what the Trickster really was.

Not a Trickster, for starters, but the angel Gabriel.

They trapped him in holy fire and finally got the truth: he did love his brothers, but now that the end had begun, it would never stop. He wanted the Apocalypse over with. Dean turned the fire alarm on before they left. The sprinklers soaking the flames that surrounded the archangel, but pointed out that it didn't have to be a celebrity grudge match between Michael and Lucifer if Gabriel only had the balls to stand up to them.

After saying goodbye to Cas, they went back to the motel that night, completely exhausted. Right around the early hours of the morning, Elena found that she couldn't stay asleep. It was weird, considering how much she'd been sleeping lately, but she knew it was more likely due to nerves than anything. She threw on a sweatshirt of Dean's that he hardly ever wore and stepped outside.

She leant on the porch railing and let the chilly air fill her lungs. The sun crept slowly over the horizon, just a sliver of orange light to dissolve the dark blues of the night into faded purple.

"My Father's Creation never ceases to amaze me," Cas said, appearing beside her. He also leant on the railing. "But I don't think that's why you called."

Elena bit her lip, then sighed and looked over at the angel. It took her a few moments to work up her nerve.

"It's been a little over two months," she said finally. "I'm way past late."

Castiel raised his brows, but he looked slightly confused as to her meaning. She sighed again turned back to the scene in front of them. She rested her elbows on the railing and let her head fall into her hands.

"I took the damn test," she admitted. "Said it was a false alarm."

Cas's expression turned to one of realization and interest.

"But tests can get it wrong," she reasoned. "I just…I want…to be sure—"

"Allow me?" Cas interrupted her gently. Elena bit her lip again reflexively and swallowed the ball of emotion in her throat. She hesitated, then briefly nodded.

The angel's hand hovered inches away from her belly, then touched lightly. His look of concentration melted to one of interest again, though this time a bit warmer than she'd ever seen the angel's expression.

"You're with child," he confirmed. She let out a shaky breath and couldn't stop the few tears that slid down her cheeks. Cas's head tilted a bit sideways.

"This distresses you."

Her lower lip wobbled, but she had to laugh a bit at the way he phrased his questions as statements because it was so _Cas_ , and she didn't know when she stopped hating him. However, she turned away from his earnest expression.

"I don't…" she tried and failed to calm her breathing. "I'm…"

 _I'm not ready._ She shook her head. Not for this.

 _Dean._

She was unaware of how her body was shaking with anxiety.

"It's the fucking _Apocalypse_." Elena couldn't hold it in any longer. She tucked one arm under the other and cried, covering her eyes with her hand.

"The timing is less than ideal," Castiel agreed, making her choke on a laugh that could've been a sob. "But I doubt that Dean will not…he will not want to abandon it."

She looked up at him despairingly.

"How do you know that?" she asked, her voice pained. Cas smiled slightly.

"I believe it's not in his nature."

 _But I have no fucking idea how I'm going to_ …

"It won't matter if we don't survive this," she whispered coarsely. Cas's smile dimmed, but his blue eyes were knowing.

"It gives him one more reason to fight, doesn't it?" he pointed out. "It gives you all another reason."

She let out a deep, tremulous breath and nodded after wiping her face.

"Thanks, Cas," she said. He inclined his head in return, and he was gone. Elena looked up one more time at the sunrise, allowed herself to catch her breath and calm down before heading inside. She slipped into the bed beside Dean and he stirred enough to hold his arm open, curling around her when she burrowed in next to him.

"Where'd you go?" he said sleepily.

"Just got something to drink," she whispered.

"Nex' time stay."

She suspected he wasn't altogether awake by the way his drowsy speech was slurring. He tended to be more honest when he was only half-awake. That and when he was drunk.

"Can't stay 'sleep," he admitted sleepily.

A slow smile eased on her face, despite how her eyes burned. She let herself relax, her thoughts rolling away to back of her mind, and melted into his warmth.

"Okay," she promised, and closed her eyes to unshed tears.


	5. Troubled Child

**AN: Some drama in this chapter, but there's a little Ellen and Jo, and Cas popping in now and then. Chapter title by Journey. Let me know what you all thought in the drop box below!**

* * *

 _ **What It Takes**_

 _V: Troubled Child_

It was getting harder, keeping it from him. From both of them, really. Both brothers were smart, perceptive. Usually they picked up on the little things. Elena was trying hard, though; steering clear of beer and whiskey, packing more snacks in her duffel, wearing shirts that didn't hug her figure under the jacket she wore. Not that she was showing somuch at nearly three months, but enough that she was surprised Dean hadn't noticed.

Granted, things had been pretty busy with answering Chuck's distress call that apparently hadn't come from Chuck at all. Then their lives had to come to a whole new level of weird because of the damn _Supernatural_ books. The only form of satisfaction they got was ganking the ghosts apparently _really_ haunting the hotel and a lead on where the Colt was, not to mention some unpublished manuscripts Sam scored from Becky, who printed them off from Chuck's laptop.

But Elena realized the prospectively dangerous game she was playing by the end of the hunt, when one of the ghost boys threw her into a bookshelf. She'd been able to turn at the last second and hit the shelf back-first, then land on her side. Her back ached though, and in the shower she found a bruise on her hip. A few inches to the left and she would've landed on her stomach.

They stopped at a gas station, and while Dean was filling up the Impala and Sam was getting some granola bars, she went into the empty women's bathroom and called Castiel. The look on his face when she gave him the sixty-second recap of the night's events was nothing if not reprimanding, at least for an angel.

"You're being reckless," he frowned.

"Is it okay?" she asked quickly. He touched a hand to her belly, and his expression lightened.

"It was only jarred, but the baby is healthy." His frown then returned. "You haven't told either of them, have you?"

Elena's exhale came out shakily.

"I don't know how."

"Neither of them will think less of you."

"…That's not it."

"Then what are you afraid of?" the angel asked. The idiosyncrasies of humanity baffled him at times. To him, there was only one solution. Any reservations she had were surely inconsequential in the long run, if he knew Dean Winchester. Not that he presumed to know so much about the female mind, but from what he had seen Elena was normally rational in light of emotional decisions. In the few times he had truly seen her angry, she'd had every reason to be.

"I know it's stupid." Her laugh was tremulous. "But I guess I _am_ scared…Dean's no coward, but…commitment hasn't exactly been his strong suit in the past. A baby is a big deal."

Big understatement.

But if it came to it…maybe adoption was the better way to go. Her lifestyle wasn't exactly stable, nor was it any way to raise a child. She wouldn't be her father and dump the kid into Bobby's hands at a moment's notice or leave him or her on their own. Plus, she was _damn_ sure Dean wouldn't want that, to say nothing of taking a baby on the road with them.

And Elena was no housewife. She didn't know the first thing about having a kid, or providing for one.

 _I'm no mother._

"Dean would not abandon you," said Castiel, breaking her from her thoughts. Elena shook her head.

"No, I know he wouldn't…"

Even to her own ears, that didn't sound as certain as she wanted it to.

Cas gave her a knowing look. It made her realize how much the angel was picking up on human mannerisms.

"You once asked me why I healed you," he said.

It took her a minute, but remembering Pam triggered the rest of her memory. Her face donned with understanding, then turned begrudgingly expectant for an answer.

"He was desperate enough to pray for it."

Elena was floored. For a long moment all she could do was stare at the angel beginning to shift his eyes under her scrutiny.

"He prayed," she deadpanned. Cas' brows furrowed. He understood her confusion though.

"Yes."

"To…" She pointed skyward.

"My father, yes," Cas nodded. Elena shook her head and leaned against the bathroom counter, arms crossed.

"Then there _must_ be a God."

* * *

"She's taking a lot time in there," Dean commented. He tested his coffee to see if it had cooled off enough, then started flipping through the pages of Chuck's manuscript. He skipped the whole thing about Sam and Ruby and breaking open the cage, because he thought about that enough as it was. Instead, he skimmed for the more recent things, to see if there were any other important tidbits of information Chuck may have forgotten to mention.

"Probably just freshening up a little. We haven't stopped since the last hunt," Sam replied around a bite of chewy granola. He was probably right, but it didn't quell the feeling in the pit of Dean's stomach. Unless he was just hungry.

"I dunno. She seem off to you lately?"

"Uh…she's been quiet, I guess."

"Yeah, I noticed that. Kind of edgy sometimes…" Dean paused on a particular page toward the beginning of the second manuscript, or rather the end. There weren't too many pages that came after, considering it wasn't finished.

"That asshole son of a bitch," he muttered. Sam looked over questioningly.

"What?"

Dean looked up and saw Elena coming toward the car, hands in the pockets of her jeans.

"Wait a second," he told his brother. She climbed into the backseat and strapped her seatbelt on, but paused at seeing Dean staring at her.

"Something up?"

"Yeah," he said, holding up the script. "When were you going to tell me?"

Her eyes widened as the rest of her face went blank. Sam didn't look like he knew what Dean was talking about, which was only a little comforting.

"…Tell you what?" she asked.

"Why didn't you tell me that fucker Zachariah locked you in your own damn head?"

She could've sagged in relief, but made sure it didn't show. Instead she acted like he'd just outed her on a secret.

"There was a lot going on, Dean," she sighed.

"When was this?" Sam asked incredulously. Then Dean realized his mistake. He hadn't wanted to tell Sam about his little trip to the future, but it would be kind of hard to explain where he was while Elena was "sleeping." Luckily, she caught him before he stumbled.

"It was during a hunt," she said, "While the three of us weren't together. Zachariah found us and separated Dean and me for a bit, but Cas got both our asses out of the fire."

"So he did that to you? Why?" Sam asked for both him and his brother.

"He was trying to lure Cas out," she shook her head. "He knew I would call for help…I should've seen it coming."

"Come on, Lena," Dean said after a moment. "The guy's a douche. All he knows how to do is push us around."

"And Cas obviously knew what he was doing if he got both of you out of there," Sam added. And was Elena glad _that_ was true. Happy to have momentarily dodged a bullet, she let the sound of Survivor on one of Dean's mix tapes lull her to sleep.

* * *

Dean stared at the unfinished book in his hands. Scowled, really. Elena busied herself with sorting out the contents of her duffle bag as she sat on one of the beds.

"I fucking hate that this exits."

She looked up and saw his scowl deepen as he flipped through pages.

"He didn't spare much to the imagination, good ole _Chuck_ ," he deadpanned.

"What part are you reading?" she asked. It was the latest one that Chuck was working on. She noticed because it was shorter than the first. That made her nervous. But Dean just shook his head and began pacing the carpeted floor that probably hadn't been cleaned in years.

Every page was something; the start of Cas's God mission-impossible. Sam's attempt at "getting out" gone horribly wrong. Having to tell an innocent kid that he could never be with his parents again. Every damn decision played out in front of them and slammed back in their face.

"The last couple months of our shit," he muttered. He didn't see her stiffen. "I mean, really, realistically why _shouldn't_ our lives be out there for the whole world to see? We're in one long, _freakin'_ horror movie that never fucking ends."

Dean sighed, and she held her breath as he kept skimming.

"The way this started…it's no wonder."

Elena almost sagged in relief when he closed the book, but focused back to what he was saying.

"You mean getting Sam from Stanford?" she asked, because that was where Chuck had pretty much started from. Dean shook his head, gave her a sad smile.

"Nah…a lot of it's just how we were raised after what happened to our mom." He tossed the book on the empty bed. "Dad dragging us to one shithole after another, every few weeks a different state, different identity. Teaching his kids how to shoot a gun and sharpen knives before teaching 'em how to play football and talk to girls."

Dean shook his head and crossed his arms as he looked out the window. Elena felt something drop to the bottom of her stomach. She'd never known that kind of life. Her childhood had been pretty much intact until high school, with homework and friends and Saturday cartoons. She'd had a home. For a while, she even had a real family with Thanksgiving and Christmas and birthday parties.

She tried to hide her shaking hands by folding shirts and was glad he wasn't looking at her, because he would've noticed by now that something was off.

"Tell me, what kind of man…what kind of dad tells his own kid not to come back just because he wants to go to college?" Dean asked. "Avoids his own kids, won't even answer their calls, even though he knows they're almost getting killed looking for him? What kind of _father_ won't come when his son is fucking _dying_?"

He let out a sigh that was shaky to her ears, and she swallowed, feeling the telltale pinprick of tears in her eyes.

"I'd never…" He looked down, shook his head again. Maybe he was like John in a lot of ways, but he promised himself a long time ago he would never be _that_.

"Not with any kid of mine."

"… _Dean._ "

Dean heard a hiccup of a sob and immediately turned around. He was shocked to see Elena with her hands over her face and tears streaming down.

"Lena?" She felt his hands pry hers away and saw him kneeling in front of her, concerned and frowning deeply. She shook her head, not wanting to say though she knew he'd get it out of her. Because he would ask.

"Hey," he pressed. "What's goin' on?"

She sniffed and sighed when he wouldn't let her pull her hands out of his.

"I don't want that either," she admitted. "Not for our kid."

He stiffened at the way she said it, the way she was looking at him, vulnerable and uncertain. Dean's eyes widened, Elena cried harder.

 _Well, that explains a hell of a lot._

* * *

Dean spluttered for a while trying to get out simple things, like "when?" and "are you sure?" and "how long?" The last one was what made it through, and though Elena was on the verge of breaking down again, she managed,

"I think eleven weeks."

That blew his mind. She'd been able to hide something like this from him for almost three months without him noticing something was wrong. He'd picked up on the little things; cramps one day, some nausea the next week, her sleeping pretty much entire rides in the Impala crossing several states. While it wasn't uncommon for her to doze off in the backseat, he'd thought it was weird that she was sleeping so soundly when just the car running over gravel from road usually woke her up.

"Have you gone to the doctor to make sure?"

She gave him a long look. He shook his head, realizing that was a dumbass question. He would have known if she'd gone anywhere longer than a couple hours, probably would have figured out if she made an appointment. Though if he hadn't even seen _this_ coming, maybe not.

"Cas confirmed it."

"…You told _Cas_ and not me?" he asked incredulously. It only made her start crying again.

Dean tried meeting her eyes, but hers remained carefully averted; one of her many tells if she was trying to avoid him. Elena was excellent at keeping her emotions locked. Just not to him.

"Lena…" She bit her lip and clenched and unclenched her fingers to try and wiggle out. A sure sign she was trying to close up on him. He released her hands to rest his on her thighs, rubbing them soothingly. With his touch he knew she couldn't tune him out. It distracted her too much.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She didn't answer right away, but when her glassy grey eyes finally met his, tears spilled over.

"I was scared." Her broken, small voice deflated him a bit. Dean came closer and knelt between her legs so he could wrap his arms around her. Elena burrowed her face into the crook of his neck and sobbed, clinging to him as tightly as she could. She breathed in deeply, his scent and warmth both familiar and comforting.

"With…everything…going on," she hiccupped, "I didn't know…how…to tell you."

"It's okay, babe. We're gunna figure this out," Dean said, and belatedly kissed her hair.

"I didn't…want…to give you more to deal with…either," she said with a shuddering breath. "Between the angels…and _Lucifer_ …"

This time, her shiver was for other reasons. The thought made his skin crawl too.

" _Dean._ If he finds out—"

" _He won't_ ," Dean assured swiftly, his hold on her tightening reflexively. It dredged up memories of _that_ future he couldn't forget. It was there when he closed his eyes, right next to his longstanding nightmares of Hell. "Nothing's gettin' to you."

The sound of her crying and the force of her shaking alerted him to how scared she really must be. So Dean soothed her the only way he knew how.

"As long as I'm here, you're gunna be safe," he said, and though he knew better, "…I promise."

He wasn't about to tell her he was scared too. The Apocalypse was over their heads like a doom cloud and angels and demons were pushing on both sides, and there was no guarantee they would make it through this. In fact, the odds were stacked high as Heaven against them.

But he held her for as long as it took for her tears to subside, until she was breathing evenly against him, and eventually, she pulled enough away to look up at his face. He pressed a tender kiss to her lips. Elena smiled a little shyly when they parted, his eyes meeting hers before she glanced down.

Dean released her to lift up the hem of her shirt, and his eyes widened comically. He figured he also should've noticed when she started wearing looser shirts. Not that she had a habit of wearing skin-tight clothing, but what she wore usually fit well. He was frozen now, staring at her slight baby bump. Small, but definitely there, bump. Her hands gently slid his from her waist to her belly.

After that she couldn't pry his hands away.

"I _swore_ I felt somethin'," he kept insisting, even though she kept trying to tell him she didn't think she was pregnant enough for that yet. His indignant look at her laughing at him as he tried to measure it from all angles only set her off more.

And then _both_ of them felt a flutter of movement. Much lighter than a kick, barely a movement at all and could've been indigestion for all they knew, but for now it was enough.

Elena had to lie down so Dean could talk near her belly for the next few minutes. He was convinced "she" moved because "she" heard his voice.

"How do you figure it's a she?" asked an amused Elena. Her voice was still small and coarse, but less strained. "…It could be a boy."

"What are you hoping for?" Dean countered, his thumb stroking back and forth on her skin as he knelt beside the bed. That made her pause.

 _He almost looks…happy_ , she thought. Still torn between that and shock and worry, but it was there. And it almost brought her to tears again. Maybe the weight of it just hadn't hit him yet. But despite never having heard the child's heartbeat or having a sonogram…Elena doubted she would be strong enough to do the responsible thing. But was she _hoping_ at all?She was still too shaken to even have a clue.

"I dunno…I don't know how good I'd be with a girl," she admitted. She carded her fingers through his hair absently. "I mean, my mom was great with me…until she got sick. Then she couldn't really anymore."

Dean understood that, but having to raise a boy would be too much like raising Sam all over again. He remembered how hard that was the first time. And if this kid's personality took after either one of his parents?

…Yeah. They had their work cut out.

"I'd say you turned out okay," he said, smiling a bit. "Though this kid's gunna raise hell."

She snorted.

"Tempers on both sides. But if they turn out to be a hellion, I'm blaming you."

"Why _me?_ "

Elena gave him a look.

"You told your brother he was Superman so he'd jump off the roof."

"…Okay, that was _one_ time."

"You put Nair in his shampoo."

"Oh come on, _he_ started that one—"

"And you still owe me a new lipstick from that time you drew with it on the mirror."

"Maybe next time you'll think before you eat my pie."

She stared at him blankly.

He sighed.

"All right, fair enough."

An amused smile tugged at her lips and only widened when Dean came to sit on the bed, near her hip. Her hand rested over his on her stomach and squeezed. He smiled crookedly, until a thought came to him.

"Sam doesn't know…does he?" Dean asked, his smile fading. Hers did too.

"No, he doesn't…I wanted you to be the first one to know."

"It's not that," though that did give him a measure of relief, "He just…tends to figure this stuff out before I do."

"You've knocked up a host of girlfriends in the past?" she sassed dryly. His fingers prodded under her ribs, making her squirm and stifle giggles.

"Not what I meant," he deadpanned. "Just—"

"Yeah, I know," she said, calming down from her fit now that his hand was held firmly in hers. "He's Sherlock Holmes usually, but no. I made sure you guys didn't have a clue…I just…I didn't…"

"I know," he said, stroking her hand with his thumb. "It's okay."

She slowly let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. For the first time in a couple months, she could breathe easy again.

And then Sam came through the door with dinner, and it started all over again. Dean knew now. She couldn't _not_ tell Sam.

"Hey, so I got Chinese. Three egg rolls, honey chicken for you, Dean, crab Rangoon for Elena, lo mein for me…and fried rice for everybody," he said, taking out each carton from the cardboard tray and setting down on the table.

 _God, what if he gets mad that I didn't say anything_. Then another thought that made her feel even more terrible, _I risked the baby by not telling them._

Or worse. Sam's "I'm disappointed in you" face was way worse than his angry bitchface.

But the hand in hers squeezed again, bringing her back to Dean, who winked at her.

 _I've got you_ , his expression assured.

And she could breathe again.

"Hey, Sam," she said slowly and sat up. He turned to look at her with a puzzled look. She smiled weakly.

"…Come here for a second."

His expression changed to one of concern as he came and sat on the other side of the bed.

"What's wrong?" he asked, eyes flicking from her to Dean. "Did something happen?"

"Well…yeah," Elena admitted. She glanced down at her hands entwined with Dean's. Finally she was able to look up at Sam's concerned blue eyes. "I, um…"

Sam's face gentled, and she was sure he sensed she was struggling. But his concern was as genuine as his kind patience. She drew just enough confidence to let it tumble out.

"Turns out…I'm pregnant."

His expression was comical, at the very least shocked speechless. The resemblance to his brother was obvious there, but he was able to recover a bit better.

"Wow, uh-um…how long…" Sam had to clear his throat nervously as he saw Dean grinning at him. "How long have you known?"

"I think I'm about three months," she said with a small smile. Sam's brows rose, and he turned to his brother.

"Have you known…"

"She just told me."

"Ah…okay…"

"I didn't know how to tell…anyone really," she confessed.

"Did you talk to Bobby?" Sam asked.

"I came close." Elena sighed and shook her head. "I just…everything's going to shit and this is the worst timing imaginable—"

"Hey, hey," both Sam and Dean stopped her at the same time.

"We'll…we'll handle this like we do everything else," said Sam. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She smiled faintly, and they eventually got up to eat. On the way to the table Sam hooked an arm around her shoulders and squeezed in a warm, brotherly gesture. It got a smile back on her face, and this time she didn't have to be ashamed of filling her plate with rice and some of the lo mein he was willing to share, along with some chicken she stole from Dean. Not that he fought _that_ hard for it, considering. But when it came to the fortune cookies…

 _That_ she left between the brothers to arm wrestle over.

* * *

"…Please tell me you're not fucking serious."

"Dean, I can help! I don't have to sit here—"

"In what way can you help? Tell me." Dean exclaimed. "No, _tell me_. Because making me lose my damn mind? _That doesn't count_."

Elena fell silent. Dean sighed and took a seat next to her on the couch. He was probably going to catch hell from Ellen sitting in the kitchen with Cas and Jo for shouting at his pregnant girlfriend, but he couldn't help that she was being dumb. Sure, for all the right reasons, but dumb nonetheless.

"If ever there was a time for you to listen to me, it'd be now," he said. "I need you to sit this one out. _Need_ you to."

"Dean," she said evenly. In that falsely calm voice Elena used when trying her best not to retaliate when he raised his voice. Because she knew it frustrated him as much as the effort did her. "You're going up against the fucking _Devil_. You've only got one shot, or nothing."

"I know," he said. "You don't have to keep tellin' me that like—like I forgot or somethin'."

"Yeah, ok fine, but how do you think I feel?" she snapped. "I've spent enough time in my life sitting on the sidelines. And what we've been working so hard for, when we're _so close_ , I can't do _anything?_ "

He understood that, but he also had a vivid memory of his future self of 2014. He knew exactly what broke the man's spirit, and Dean swore to himself that he wasn't going to let it happen in 2009.

"If he figures it out, he _will_ kill you."

"And what do you think is going to happen to you if you miss?"

The music kept on playing in the background, but the laughter and conversation had died down significantly. Dean sighed and looked down at his hands. Finally he grabbed onto hers and held them, despite her tugging against him.

"I know what I'm asking you," he said, and threaded his fingers with hers so she stopped pulling away. "If I was you, I probably couldn't do it…but I _need_ you to trust me."

He wiped away the tear that slid down her cheek, and she shuddered a sigh.

"Fine," she said. "But I don't have to like it."

He smiled a little.

"I'd never ask you to."

* * *

"Everybody get in here!" Bobby called from the living room. He adjusted a few more settings on the stationary camera as Sam and Ellen came up behind him. "It's time for the lineup. Usual suspects in the corner."

"Oh come on, Bobby," said Ellen. "Nobody wants their picture taken."

"Here, here," said Sam.

"Shut up. You're drinkin' my beer."

"I'm not," Elena muttered with her arms crossed.

"And you won't for a while," Ellen told her, but grinned and squeezed the younger woman's shoulders. Elena liked Ellen. She had a knack for keeping both Winchesters in line and knew how to press Bobby's buttons better than Dean, which was a hard feat to accomplish. She reminded Elena of Pamela in a lot of ways, but more in "I'm everyone's mom" kind of way than Pam's "real talk, get your ass in gear" way.

Thinking of Pam still gave Elena a twinge of sadness that had her staring at her glass of diet coke, until Jo gently shoulder-bumped her.

"Check out Cas," she said with a grin, and gestured to where Ellen and the angel were knocking back shots. Elena had to smile. Dean had more than tried getting Cas drunk, but the three full bottles of vodka had barely fazed him.

"I think your mom's found her match. The guy's a fucking tank."

Jo laughed and shuffled the cards.

Elena also saw a lot of Ellen in Jo though the girl was green to hunting, a little obviously. But Jo was fun to play cards with; the two had just finished swindling Dean out of a couple hundred dollars in hustling money.

"Anyway," said Bobby. He wheeled back until he was in front of Ellen and Elena, who was joined on her other side by Dean, Sam, and then Cas. "I'm going to need somethin' to remember your sorry asses by."

Jo set down her beer and came in on Ellen's left.

"Ha," Ellen laughed. "It's always good to have an optimist around."

"Bobby's right," said Cas, his tone more serious. "Tomorrow, we hunt the Devil."

* * *

Dean radioed in to Bobby around one in the afternoon to say they were in trouble, and Jo was down. Elena let her head fall into her hands while Bobby's eyes went skyward before he got Dean focused on their next move.

Ellen came on the line and confirmed over a dozen reapers Cas had spotted in the area before he vanished, So Bobby and Elena put their heads together for the next fifteen minutes and eventually came up with the likeliest of Lucifer's possible plans.

"It sounds like Death, son," Bobby said. "I think Satan's in town to work a ritual. I think he's planning to unleash Death."

"… _You mean like this dude and taxes are the only sure thing?_ " Dean asked.

"As in Death, the Horseman. The Pale Rider in the flesh."

" _Unleash, I mean hasn't death been ridin' around all over the place? I mean hell, I've died several times myself!_ "

"Not this guy, this is the Angel of Death—Big Daddy Reaper," said Bobby. "They keep this guy chained six hundred feet under. Last time they hauled him up, Noah was buildin' a _boat_."

"That's why the place is crawling with reapers," Elena realized. "They're waiting on him to show."

The other line was quiet for a minute and the two knew Dean was processing the information.

" _Got any other good news?_ "

"In a manner of speaking. We've been researching Carthage since you've been gone," Bobby replied. "Seeing what the Devil may want there. What you just said makes the last piece of the puzzle fit into place. 'The Angel of Death must be brought into this world at midnight through a place of awful carnage. Now, back during the Civil War there was a battle in Carthage."

He flipped through the pages in a historical text while Elena continued underlining in the New King James Bible.

"A battle so intense the soldiers called it the Battle of Hell Hole."

" _Where did the massacre go down?_ "

"Land of William Jasper's farm."

* * *

It was radio silence after that. Bobby and Elena stayed up long past midnight, him with a fifth of whiskey and her with a cup of coffee that didn't stop her from finally falling asleep on the couch. She woke to a hand in her hair, running through the long, tangled strands, then down her back and up to the nape of her neck when grey eyes blinked lazy open to shadowed green.

She smiled and sat up, leaning into his tight embrace that felt somewhat needy. She saw Sam—just Sam—talking with Bobby in the kitchen in quiet tones and realized why. The smile faded from her lips, but she held Dean to her. He needed it as much, if not more, as she did.

Cas went back into hiding and Bobby burned the photograph.

After that, hunts got messier, while Elena stayed with Bobby for the next three weeks and got slightly bigger. Both Sam and Dean called in often enough (upon pain of getting an earful if they didn't), though Dean didn't exactly mind. He sort of wished he could just stay at Bobby's house and live a little, instead of getting poisoned by a Wraith with crazy, or having to go back in time to meet his parents and stop Anna from killing his mother.

Yeah, right about now, staying at home sounded nice.

" _She's sleeping right now, actually_."

"It's three-thirty in the afternoon, Bobby," Dean said, looking at his watch. "She have another late lunch again?"

" _Had to pry a cheeseburger out of her hands_ ," said Bobby. " _Don't know how she smuggled it in the house without me knowin', but I made her some soup._ "

Dean chuckled.

"Aw, come on. You could at least let her have a burger once in a while."

" _Junk food don't coincide with the pregnant people's diet last I checked,_ " Bobby drawled. " _She's the one who told me not to let her, at_ _ **any**_ _cost."_

"Damn, Bobby. Isn't she _supposed_ to have cravings?" said Dean. "She ask for anything weird yet? Pickles and ice cream or some shit?"

" _She's only comin' up on month four. Still early for that stuff I think…not that I would know. I ain't never been pregnant._ "

He couldn't believe they were already almost at the halfway mark. They hadn't even taken her to the doctor yet, hadn't seen a sonogram. All they knew was according to Cas, the baby was healthy. They didn't even know if it was a boy or girl.

"Thank God for that," Dean remarked, grinning though Bobby wouldn't be able to see it over the phone. "Last thing you need is another reason to be cranky."

"… _I hope for your kid's sake they get their mother's brains._ "

"That hurts, Bobby. It really does."

" _I'll let you get onto cryin' into your Haagen Dazs then. She'll call you._ "

Dean rolled his eyes and hung up, then looked over to the passenger seat at Sam's knowing smile.

"The hell are _you_ smiling about?"

"You're grumpy when you don't get to talk to her."

"Shut up," said Dean. "How the hell do we get to Mankato anyway?"

"It's off of I-35."

"Thanks, _that's_ specific," Dean said dryly. "Can't wait to find the crazy people _eating_ each other."

* * *

Bobby decided to take a break from the books and phones and rolled the few feet that took him into the living room, where his niece was staring idly at the TV while curled on the couch.

"Donnin' the same sweatpants for a _third_ day in a row, I see," he commented. Her narrowed eyes slid over to him impassively.

"My jeans are tight," she muttered. Sooner or later she was going to have to buy new clothes. "This _sucks._ "

"Could be worse."

"I can't hunt. Can't wear my own clothes, can't even eat what I want—"

"Should've thought of that earlier, don't you think?" he snapped. "Still got two working legs, don't ya? You ain't an invalid and you ain't a little kid, so stop your damn whining."

Bobby took the remote from her and settled in front of the TV.

"Why don't _I_ watch mindless TV," he said, "While _you_ make yourself useful and answer the damn phones?"

Elena looked affronted for a moment, but at his expectant raised brows it turned into an annoyed glare. She reluctantly got up from the couch.

"It's not nice to bully pregnant people," she sassed as she passed him.

"Neither is annoying the resident cripple," he shot back over his shoulder.

 _Always somethin' with these kids,_ he thought. _Always gotta be drama, even if it ain't apocalyptic._

"Bunch of complainers," he murmured, flipping through the channels.

" _Old gimp_ ," Elena said under her breath, and sat down at his desk. For the next few hours she alternated between answering phones and watching Youtube videos on her laptop, until her cell phone rang. A tired but familiar voice answered on the other line, but the way Dean said her name tipped her off.

" _Lena._ "

"Hey, what's wrong?" There was a dry chuckle and a heavy sigh. Elena heard the TV shut off and looked up at Bobby when he rolled his wheelchair toward her. "Bobby's here, I'm putting you on speaker."

" _Ran into one of the Horsemen, Famine,_ " he said. _"We got his ring…_ "

"But?" she pressed.

" _Made everyone in the damn town jonesing for their cravings_ ," he explained, and after a pause, " _It got to Sam._ "

Her brows furrowed in confusion, while Bobby's expression donned with grim realization.

"You sayin' he's…back on the juice?" he asked. Elena met his gaze with horror.

" _That's exactly what I'm saying,_ " said Dean. " _Get the room ready. Withdrawal's already starting. We should be there in a few hours. Five at most._ "

"Got'cha. We'll be ready," Bobby replied, and Elena ended the call. They spent the next two hours prepping the room, with Elena taking out anything Sam could hurt himself with and Bobby getting a tray with a pitcher of water and some paper cups. Elena had to arrange everything since Bobby couldn't go down the stairs, but with two hours to spare, the path to the basement was cleared and the panic room was open and ready.

Elena spent the next three hours sitting in the sofa chair, reading a book on Greek mythology she'd already read twice in the past. Bobby sat in the kitchen with the morning's newspaper and a cup of coffee even though it was well into the afternoon, approaching the evening. There was a knock on the door around eight-thirty at night, and Elena answered it with some anxiety.

Dean was supporting Sam a bit with an arm around his shoulders. Sam, whose eyes were already bloodshot from the near day and a half drive and obvious symptoms. He could stand all right, but his hands were shaking, his face was pale, and Dean was exhausted.

"Back up," he instructed her, and she stepped back so they could clear the doorway and get inside. The room was dim, lit only by a small desk lamp in Bobby's study and the floor lamp by the couch; Elena hadn't wanted the overhead light to hurt Sam's eyes. But his widened when they saw her, not only in recognition, but in fury.

"Y-…It's _you_ ," he nearly hissed at her, his body tensing with hostility. Elena blinked and stepped back a few slow paces, sensing the danger.

"Sam?" Dean asked in warning. His grip on his brother became less bracing and more restraining. "What's wrong?"

Sam saw dark hair, dark eyes, and a demon's smirk.

"Elena!" Bobby called in alarm, but Sam was faster than any of them predicted, the demon blood still coursing through his system making him stronger, quicker even. He was able to knock his brother's arm off and catch up to Elena in two brisk strides. Before she could get a word out his hand was around her throat, the demon knife previously at Dean's belt poised in his other hand.

Dean's arms was around his brother and twisting the knife out of his wrist before the larger man could make one scratch, though he was struggling to pull him off of her.

" _Let her go, Sam!_ " Dean demanded.

" _I killed her! There's no fucking way,_ " Sam exclaimed, straining against his brother to finish her off. " _I'll kill her_ _ **again**_ _if I have to!_ "

"Let go _**now**_ , _before I kick your high ass back to sobriety!_ "

Elena was steadily turning red, though she resorted to clawing his wrist when she couldn't break his hold.

"Not… _Ruby,_ " she choked out. " _She's_ … _dead._ "

Sam only growled and tightened his hold. It spurred Dean to action, and with an angry grunt he yanked his brother away. It forced Sam's hand, but instead of just letting her go, he used his hold to shove her away as Dean hefted him backwards. The two toppled over, and their wrestling for the upper hand had Dean sitting heavily on his brother and pinning him down with his knee in the younger man's sternum.

"Alastair," Sam seethed as he looked up at his brother, gritting his teeth and snarling like an animal. Dean didn't bother correcting him. It was no use if he was having an episode this bad.

"Lena," he could hear from the other end of the room. Dean looked up and saw Bobby as close as he could to Elena's prone form on the ground, trying to pull out the floor lamp felled next to her.

"Come on, girl," he muttered, "Can't pick you up. Wake up for me, darlin'."

Sam made sounds of frustration under Dean, and the elder Winchester looked down at his brother, both tired and furious. He watched as the hallucination made Sam's eyes wild, even as he struggled for breath at the weight on top of him.

Dean punched him once, hard enough to knock him out.

* * *

He drew only a little satisfaction locking the panic room door. Dean hastened back up the stairs to find Cas already there, his hand on Elena's forehead. Dean could only assume the angel had moved her to the couch. He grabbed the pillow she used to cushion her back while watching TV from the sofa chair and gently placed it under her head, after Cas removed his hand.

"She is only resting now," the angel promised. "Both are fine."

Dean realized he meant the baby too, and that gave him a measure of relief.

"You sure?"

Castiel nodded.

"There is no lasting damage to either of them."

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. He sat down on the floor against the couch and sighed heavily. He could hear Bobby muttering to himself in the kitchen, probably throwing leftovers in the microwave for him. Dean was the farthest thing from hungry.

"Thanks, Cas," he said. The angel nodded.

"I'm…sorry I can't help Sam."

"It's okay," said Dean. "Come morning he'll be fine."

But it was another four hours before he couldn't take the screaming anymore. Before he couldn't take the sight of his girlfriend unconscious, his surrogate father in a wheelchair. Before he stepped outside, sucked in the cool night air, and broke down asking the heavens— _begging_ —for some fucking help.


	6. Who'll Stop the Rain

**AN: Ok, so I'm just going to let you all know. I'm debating whether to continue on with this story since I'm not sure of how many are actually reading it. So all who would like to see more after this chapter, say "I." ; )**

 **Chapter title by Creedence Clearwater Revival.**

* * *

 _ **What It Takes**_

" _Long as I remember the rain been comin' down_ _  
_ _Clouds of mystery pourin' confusion on the ground._ _  
_ _Good men through the ages tryin' to find the sun._ _  
_ _And I wonder still I wonder who'll stop the rain,"_

— _Creedence Clearwater Revival_

 _VI: Who'll Stop the Rain_

Sam was fine by morning, the second day after arriving at Bobby's. During which Elena made her first doctor's appointment for both a check-up and a preliminary meet-and-greet with whoever would be assigned as her doctor. Dean promised to go with her, come the Friday in two weeks.

Today was Monday, and tense as all hell when Sam came up the stairs with Dean into the living room. From the couch, Elena looked up from the book she was reading while Bobby set down his mug of coffee. Sam stopped at the top of the stairs, hesitant, unsure, and with a telltale droop in his shoulders that told of shame. He met Elena's eyes by accident. His were sad, but that turned to surprise once she smiled at him. A small smile, but genuine.

"Feeling better?" she asked. He hesitated, then nodded. She went back to reading her book and Bobby returned to his newspaper. Dean squeezed his brother's shoulder before joining Bobby in the kitchen; he could use some coffee too.

It left Sam still a bit uncertain as to where he was welcome.

"Are you going to stand there all day?"

He looked up at Elena, again in surprise. She gestured with her eyes at the vacant spot next to her. His movements were slow to the couch, and he gave her a good foot and a half of distance. She looked over at him wryly. He caught it in the corner of his eye.

Elena marked her place and set the book down. Her hands wandered the couch for the remote, but didn't find it on her end. So she scooted to the middle and finally found it in between the seats. She turned it on to the Discovery Channel—a documentary on the possibilities of using the science used in _Jurassic Park_ to actually bring back extinct animals.

"If I was a dinosaur, I'd be a velociraptor," she said. Sam finally glanced over at her, cracking a small smile.

"Yeah," he agreed. "They were the smartest."

"And the fastest."

"…I used to have one of those claw things…you know, from the movie."

"Damn, really? I always wanted one of those when I was a kid."

"Dean teased me about it…but I'm pretty sure he was jealous."

She snorted in response.

"I'm sure."

They watched the show in silence for a while, the coffee machine brewing in the background. Soon the smell wafted into the living room, making Elena's mouth water.

"I'm gunna get some of that," she said, and began inching toward the edge of the couch. "Want some?"

Sam wrestled with himself for a moment.

"Lena," he said quietly, stopping her. She raised her brows expectantly. His eyes met hers, and the pain and remorse she saw brought out the sad understanding in hers.

"For what I did…I'm sorry—it wasn't me…" Sam dropped his gaze to his hands in his lap. He still felt tired, fatigued even, but thankfully dry. He'd never wanted to have to feel like this again.

"I'd _never_ —"

"I know, Sam," she said gently, and brushed her fingers over the scabbed scratches on his hands and wrists. "It wasn't your fault."

She smiled at him.

"You didn't hurt me. I'm okay." She mussed his already tangled hair and used his knee to get up from the couch. "Just do me a favor and go take a shower."

Sam blew his bangs away from his face and watched Elena smile her way into the kitchen, take the mug of coffee Dean offered her with a kiss as compensation. Bobby passed the newspaper across the round table. Dean took it as he sat down and pulled Elena into his lap. The sun peeked in through the open window, and then it was a quiet, comfortable morning.

Sam smiled.

* * *

The brothers set out that afternoon on a promising case Dean saw in the paper. Three cases of homicide in Wilmar, Minnesota: all either a husband or a wife, all had their hearts cut out. But after five days, the case turned out to be nothing supernatural-related. The murders were part of a kind of sacrifice to a local, underground cult to prove their dedication. For the first time in a _very_ long time, Sam called in an anonymous tip to the local police with the cult leader's name, as well as the address of the abandoned funeral parlor being used as their home office.

That's how the brothers found themselves in a somewhat rundown diner on the edge of town. Sam's plate was left half-eaten next to his laptop as he scrolled through the news in nearby areas.

"I hate it when this happens," Dean groused, and took a voracious bite of his turkey sandwich. "I've said it once, I'll say it a thousand times. _Humans,_ man."

"Yeah, well I'm pretty sure the dead rising up from the grave is high enough on the weird scale," Sam said, and turned his laptop around. "It's in Sioux Falls."

* * *

Their calls to Bobby and Elena went unanswered, which for _both_ of them was extremely weird. Dean finally got a breakthrough in his texts to Elena after their interview with a guy named Digger was cut short by Sheriff Jody Mills.

 **E: Hey, srry. Was sleeping.**

 **D: Call me back? It's important.**

When she didn't reply after an hour, he started getting frustrated and left another voicemail.

"Hey, we caught a case here in Sioux Falls. The town drunk saw Clay Thompson climb out of his grave and kill Benny Sutton, the guy who shot him five years ago," he said. "We're heading over there to Bobby's now."

* * *

"You know how many times we've called? Where've you been?"

"Playin' murder ball," Bobby sassed. "Now would it kill ya to keep your voice down? Elena's upstairs, out like a light. Hasn't been sleepin' well these past few days."

Dean sighed and nodded, but paused and sniffed.

"What's that smell?" he asked. "Is that soap…did you _clean?_ "

He knew for a fact it wasn't Elena. She couldn't take the smell of the chemicals.

"What are you, my _mother?_ " Bobby asked incredulously. " _Bite me._ "

"Bobby, seriously," Sam cut in.

"I've been workin'. You know, tryin' to find a way to stop the Devil?"

"Find anything?" Dean asked.

"What do _you_ think?"

"It's just," said Sam. "There's a case…less than _five miles_ away from your house."

"What, the Benny Sutton thing? That's what this is about?"

"You knew about it?" said Dean.

"Hell yes, I checked into it already. There's nothing here."

* * *

They checked the graveyard where Clay Thompson was buried just to be sure. Surprise, surprise, no Clay. They looked up his address and found him at his house with his wife and kids. Before they could decide what to do with a _zombie_ , they were arrested by Sheriff Mills and taken to the Sioux Falls local jail, where they were bailed out by Bobby.

"I thought the sheriff _hated_ you," said Sam as he pushed the wheelchair through the precinct.

"She did, 'til five days ago," Bobby replied.

"What happened five days ago?" Dean asked.

"The dead started rising all over town."

The brothers glanced at one another.

"So you knew about this?" Sam asked. "You _and_ Elena?"

"Yep."

Both brothers gave an incredulous look.

"I think what Sam meant to say is, you _lied_ to us?" Dean exclaimed.

"Look." Bobby wheeled in front of them and stopped in the hallway. "I told you there was nothing here, and there isn't. Not for you."

"There are _zombies_ here," Dean pointed out. Bobby sighed.

"There's zombies…and then there's _zombies_."

* * *

Dean remembered a night after a long hunt. They hadn't gotten into the motel until 3:00 am. The alarm on his phone accidentally went off at five-thirty instead of seven-thirty. Elena had rolled over, gripped the collar of his shirt and said if he ever woke her up before sunrise for anything short of a life or death crisis, she would smother him in his sleep.

He and Sam got to Bobby's house to find Elena awake and at the kitchen table at four in the morning. But that wasn't the weird thing.

Next to her was a little boy eating a slice of pie while humming "Stairway to Heaven"—a boy who Dean saw was no more than six or seven years old with a face he'd only seen in pictures, but a face he could recognize in Elena's features. Features that were visibly nervous, but she smiled when he and Sam walked in the dining room and met Bobby's wife, Karen. She was a slender woman, blonde with a pretty smile and a flour-stained apron over a yellow sundress.

"You didn't have to cook, babe. It's 4:00 am," Bobby told her.

"Oh please," she said, waving him off playfully. "I'll get some more plates."

Karen headed into the kitchen and Elena made her way out of her chair and to Dean, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek and a quiet "Hey."

"Sleeping, huh?" he asked knowingly after she'd greeted Sam with a hug.

"Don't be mad," she said, her tone somewhat pleading. She went over to the little boy and settled a hand on his shoulder. "Jamie, there's some really nice guys I want you to meet."

The boy paused from his pie to look up at her with a broad smile.

"What guys?" he asked, then turned in his seat to see the Winchester brothers wearing forced smiles. "Oooh, them."

"Yeah," Elena laughed, and helped pull out his chair so he could shake Dean's hand when he reluctantly squatted down to the kid's level.

"Hey, little man. I'm Dean, your sister's…friend."

Jaime let go of Dean's hand and crossed his arms, though he was smiling like he knew a funny joke the man didn't.

"It's okay. I know you're her _boyfriend_ ," he said, though he wrinkled his nose at the thought. "She told me lots about you…and you."

He then turned to the younger Winchester and craned his neck up…and _up_.

"Whoa, you really _are_ huge!"

Sam laughed despite his wariness and took a knee so he could offer his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Jamie," he said. Years of practice kept just how strange and fucked up he thought this situation was off his face.

"…How old are you?"

"Seven." The boy held up six fingers after shaking Sam's hand—seven after taking a closer look at his own. That was when Karen came back with a freshly baked apple pie and two additional plates.

"Who wants pie?"

* * *

Dean waited until Karen took Jamie into the living room to watch cartoons before pushing away the (amazing) pie and asking both Bobby and Elena if they were fucking crazy.

"Dean, I can explain," Bobby started calmly.

"Explain what, _lying_ to us? Or the American Girl-zombie making cupcakes in your _kitchen?_ "

"First of all, that's my wife, so _watch it._ "

Dean pursed his lips at the reprimand, but turned to his girlfriend next to him, who wasn't meeting his eyes.

"And you too. What the hell?"

"Whatever that is in there," said Sam. "It is _not_ your wife, and it is _not_ your brother."

"And how do you know that?" Bobby asked.

"Are you _serious?_ "

"Guys," Elena protested weakly.

"You think I'm an idiot, boy? My dead wife," he said, then nodded toward Elena, "and her dead brother show up on my doorstep, and I'm not gunna test _both_ of 'em every way I ever learned?"

"So what are they?" Dean asked. "Zombies, revenants?"

"Hell if I can tell. She's got no scars, no wounds. Neither got a reaction to salt, silver, holy water."

"Bobby, they crawled out of their coffins."

"No she didn't," he said. "I cremated her."

Dean's eyes widened. He looked over at Elena, who nodded.

"Jamie was too."

"Somehow, some way, she's back," said Bobby.

"That's impossible," said Sam.

"Tell me about it."

"You bury her ashes?"

"Yeah."

"Where?" Dean asked, both him and Elena. She and Bobby glanced at one another.

"The local cemetery," she said. "My dad wanted him buried in the family plot my grandparents bought, next to Aunt Karen."

"That's where they all rose from," said Bobby. "Fifteen or twenty of 'em. I made a list."

He took it out of his pocket and handed it over to Sam.

"There's Karen, Jaime, Clay," Bobby counted from memory. "Sheriff Mills. Her little boy came back."

Dean rolled his eyes. That explained a lot, with the third degree she'd given them.

"And there were no signs?" Sam asked. "No omens?"

"Well there were the…lightning storms." The ones Sam had mentioned earlier while asking Bobby if he'd checked out the town.

Dean threw up his hands. They hit the table with a thump, rattling the teacups a little.

"That's what we said. What else?"

Bobby grabbed a Bible off of a bookshelf and flipped to chapter six of Revelation.

" _And through the fire sat before me a pale horse, and he that sat atop him carried a scythe. And I saw since he had risen, they too shall rise, and from him, and through him._ "

"…So Death is behind this?" asked Dean.

" _Death_ , Death? Like, Grim Reaper, Death?" Sam added.

"Yeah," Bobby answered. Dean rubbed his face tiredly. He could feel a headache coming on.

"Awesome. Another Horseman. Must be Thursday."

"But why would Death raise the dead in a Podunk town like Sioux Falls?" Sam asked, and got up from the table to flip through what Bobby had just been reading.

"I don't know," Bobby replied.

"But if Death is behind this, then whatever these people are," said Dean, giving both Elena and Bobby a measuring look, "It's not good…you know what we have to do here."

Elena pursed her lips, the upward tilt of her chin betraying her stubborn denial, while Bobby's was more subtle. Even the tone of his voice and the slump to his shoulders pleaded with them to let it go.

"She doesn't remember anything, you know," said Bobby.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked.

"Being possessed. Me killing her. Her coming back."

"Bobby…"

"No, don't…" The old hunter shook his head. "Don't _Bobby_ me. Just…just listen, okay?"

They sat in silence, and though the TV was still on over in the living room, there was humming coming from the kitchen.

"She hums when she cooks," Bobby said quietly. "She always… used to hum when she cooked. Tone deaf as all hell, but…I never thought I would hear it again."

Bobby paused for a moment, then shook his head again.

"…Look, just read Revelation. So the dead rise during the Apocalypse. There's nothing there that says that's a bad thing. Hell, maybe it's the one good thing that comes out of his whole bloody mess."

"And what would you do if you were us?" Dean asked. Bobby couldn't answer for a moment. He looked down at his plate of half-eaten pie.

"I know what I'd do…and I know what you think you've gotta do," he said. "But I'm beggin' you, please…please, leave her be. Leave the boy be."

Elena sniffed quietly and blinked against the tears in her eyes. The brothers looked over at her, and she grasped Dean's hand.

"Please," she said. "Just…just let it go."

* * *

Sam took the Impala to find out more about the town "zombies," and if they were dangerous. Meanwhile, Dean watched outside Bobby's house from the backyard. He didn't see too much movement until the front door opened, and Elena walked out in a light blue sundress, holding Jaime's hand as they walked along the sidewalk away from the house.

"Damn it," he muttered. He wouldn't be able to watch both of them if she left the house. But be it due to screwed hormones or whatever it was, it seemed like Bobby had his head screwed on tighter than Elena at the moment. He tensed, ready to follow her, but turned to see Karen smiling at him. He jumped a bit, despite himself.

"Oops, did I scare you?" she said.

"N-No, no. Nothing scary about you at all."

"Would you like some lunch?"

"Uh…I'm good, thanks. I was just going to…" He looked over at the sidewalk, but Elena was long gone.

"They're just going to the park, they should be back soon," she said. "Come on! There's more pie."

"…I don't think Bobby wants me inside."

She gave him a smile.

"Guess it'll have to be our secret then, huh? Come on."

* * *

Pie with Karen Singer was a learning experience. There were maybe twenty pies, baked and unbaked, lined throughout the kitchen. Neither Karen nor Jamie slept at all, leaving Elena feeling obligated to stay up as much as she could with them. At the same time it allowed her to get to know her aunt that she had so little memory of.

"It let me really meet my beautiful niece," Karen added. "I remember when she could barely put sentences together. Then she couldn't _stop_ talking, Jamie no bigger than a loaf of bread. I'm sorry I didn't get to see either of them grow up…I'm sorry my brother never had peace."

Karen worked on kneading dough while Dean remained quiet. He hoped he wouldn't have to kill her, but he was realistic.

"I know you don't trust me."

"Why would you say that?"

"Oh, come on, Dean," she said good-naturedly, turning to him. "That's why you're here, isn't it, keeping an eye on me? I know who you are, just like I know Bobby's not the same mild-mannered scrap dealer I married. You hunt things. I'm…a thing. I get it."

"So you know that Sam and I would never let anything happen to Bobby," he answered slowly. "He's like a father to us."

"I understand," she said. "And he's lucky to have you looking out for him, Dean…but you're not the only one."

"Is that so?"

Karen breathed a sigh. She went back to her dough, adding flour where need be.

"I remember everything, you know," she said. "When I died. A demon taking over my body, the things it made me do. And Bobby having no choice but to…well, you know what he did. But I can see it in his eyes when he looks at me…the guilt. It weighs on him."

"So why didn't you tell him?" Dean asked. It reminded him of what happened not too long ago with that damn convention. The only good thing out of it were those unpublished books Sam got a hold of from Becky, though it meant finding out how Zachariah got to Elena when Dean was trapped in the future.

She might've saved herself in the car, but at the motel while Sam was showering, he let her know that she wasn't quite off the hook.

" _I got out, it's not a big deal," she tried placating him, and plopped down on the bed after pulling back the covers._

" _Yeah, well, you almost didn't. That's the kind of shit you might wanna tell me in the future," he groused. "We're_ _ **always**_ _busy, Lena. I'm always dealing with a ton of shit. That doesn't mean you can't tell me when something like this happens."_

 _Elena sat up against the headboard and crossed her arms._

" _Not always, Dean."_

 _He raised his brows._

"… _What?"_

" _You don't really expect me to dump a load of crap on you after you've had a shitty day, do you?" she asked. "Why would I want to stress you out_ _ **more**_ _? Trust me, when a problem starts being a_ _ **real**_ _problem, I'll let you know. But I'm pretty sure being sent to the future where the world is in the crapper trumps being trapped here."_

 _She smiled at him._

" _We're both okay. That's all that matters."_

"What would doing that accomplish?" she asked. Dean glanced away from her suddenly piercing stare.

"…You don't want him to blame himself," he mused.

 _More than he already does, anyway_ , he thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Karen smile sadly.

"I love him," she said simply. "He's my husband, and my job is to bring him peace, not pain."

* * *

Dean went out the kitchen door so Bobby wouldn't wake up from his nap and catch him in the house. It was lucky, as just as he'd closed the door he saw Elena coming back with Jaime, identical smiles on both of their faces. Hers faltered a bit when she saw him.

He wasn't used to that, but he still made his way over to her before she could go inside.

"Hey," he greeted, his hand brushing her arm lightly. She didn't seem too receptive to him right now.

"Hi, Dean!" Jamie said cheerfully. Dean smiled a little.

"Hey, Jamie," he said. "Have fun at the park?"

"We just went for a walk around the neighborhood," said Elena. "Not too far."

"Everything's the _same_ ," said Jamie. She smiled down at him.

"That's not true! They got an ice cream shop down the road."

"Whoa, seriously? Why didn't we go _there?_ " he complained, his hand going to his belly. "I'm hungry."

"Maybe after dinner, Jay," she said. "Go inside. I'm sure Aunt Karen can make you something to tide you over for a couple hours."

"Kay," he said, and before closing the door behind him, "See ya later, Dean."

Elena pointed toward the house curiously.

"Bobby let you inside?" she asked.

"Nah, Karen did," he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. "She invited me in for pie."

A smile twitched at Elena's lips as she crossed her arms.

"She knows you already."

Dean huffed.

"Yeah. I can see the family resemblance."

 _In more ways than one_ , he couldn't help thinking.

"Has…Sam found anything yet?" she asked.

"Not yet," he admitted. "But…that doesn't mean we're in the clear on this, Lena."

She looked down at the ground, frowning.

"Hey," he said, and tilted her chin up to him. She met his eyes, despite wanting to pull away. "We're trying, okay? I'd give anything for this not to be what we think…but you can't exactly blame us."

Elena blinked and her eyes turned glassy. She bit her lip and tried her best to swallow past the lump in her throat. He wiped away the tears and pressed his lips to her forehead, only pulling away when he heard the sound of the Impala's engine. Sam pulled up to the front of the house, but the look on his face was anything but hopeful.

* * *

"Keep your voices down. Karen's upstairs with Jaime," said Bobby.

"I'm sorry, we're a little tense right now," said Dean. "Who's old lady Jones?"

"The first one to come up."

"The first one to go bad," Sam corrected.

"Eh, she was always a nutty broad."

"Nutty how? Nutty like the way she ate her husband's stomach? Was that the kind of nutty she was in life?" Dean asked.

"…No," Bobby said begrudgingly. Elena looked worried, her arms crossed.

"Look, I feel for you both," said Dean. "But you have got to acknowledge that you're not exactly seeing this straight."

Bobby glared coldly at him and wheeled over to his desk, where Elena stood.

"Bobby, whether you admit it or not, these things are turning," said Sam. "We've got to stop them. All of them!"

Bobby turned around and pulled his gun from where it was tucked between his leg and the chair.

"Bobby," Elena gasped.

"Time to go."

"What?" Dean said incredulously, his eyes wide.

"You heard me, off my property," he said tersely.

"Or what," Sam asked, just as shocked. "You'll shoot?"

" _If_ Karen turns, _I_ will handle it. My way."

"This is dangerous," said Dean. Bobby clicked the safety on the handgun, but let it rest in his lap.

"I ain't tellin' you twice."

Dean's eyes shifted to Elena.

"I'm certain as all hell not gunna leave her alone here."

"I'm not leaving," she told him, her jaw clenching stubbornly. There was a long, tense moment in which no one spoke, but frustration and anger were palpable.

"Elena, can I talk to you?" Dean finally asked, pointing to the kitchen despite the threat of Bobby's gun. " _Please._ "

She looked torn, casting wide eyes from Bobby to the brothers. Eventually she set a hand on Bobby's shoulder before following Dean into the kitchen. She closed the double doors only halfway after Sam came in. She met Bobby's expectant and warning gaze, then turned away from him and the doors to face her boyfriend and his brother. One stood with his arms crossed while the other stood by the fridge.

"Elena," Dean spoke, "This is crazy."

"Dean—" she started weakly.

"You can't honestly believe for _one second_ that this is gunna end well." He shook his head and leaned a fist on the kitchen counter. "I'm sorry, I am. Believe me, I get it—"

"Do you?" she asked quietly, earning his attention. "Do you _really_ know how I feel?"

Tears swam in her eyes as she frowned up at Sam and Dean.

"You died for your brother, Dean," said Elena. "My brother died _because_ of me…and now he's back."

Dean restrained a sigh and inwardly cringed. He didn't want to hurt her, but neither her or Bobby were letting themselves think straight.

"Lena," he stepped toward her with the gentle intention of taking her hand. "That wasn't your fault…but that's _not_ Jaime."

She recoiled from him and glared up at him through tears.

"Do you know what it's like," she sniffed, "After twenty years, for _him_ to tell you it wasn't your fault? A six-year-old that remembers all the words to 'Stairway to Heaven' because I taught it to him, and _that's_ not my brother?"

"He's going to turn," Dean pressed. "And when he does, what are you going to do?"

"Do you know what you're asking?" said Elena. She pulled her gun from the waistband of her jeans and it clattered on the counter. "How _dare_ you ask me to do something you couldn't do."

Dean fell silent, but he could feel Sam's eyes on him as sure as Elena's glare.

"You touch Jamie and I'll never forgive you," she said, surprising him.

"Lena—"

"I know you're trying to protect me," she wiped her tears and made her way toward the double doors. Bobby was still waiting on the other side. "But do me a favor and don't."

Dean scoffed and looked skyward, his frustration winning out against his sympathy.

"You can't expect us to do that, Lena," said Sam, mostly for his brother's sake.

He knew even better than Elena how deeply Dean's protective instincts ran, and knew just how ridiculous it was to ask him not to. It went against Dean's very nature, and Sam knew she knew that.

She looked over at him angrily, but his earnest concern dimmed the heat in her eyes. Instead of answering him, she opened the doors and began making her way upstairs.

"Jamie!" she called. "Get ready, bud. We're going to the park!"

Dean tensed and nearly followed her.

"Nu-uh. Time's up," Bobby reminded, holding his gun pointedly. Dean's jaw clenched in aggravation.

"You're really going to let her go alone with him?" Dean asked incredulously. Bobby's expression shifted toward uncertainty. He glanced down at his gun.

"She's still a capable adult. I trust her to make her own decisions," he said, then looked up at Dean. "Do you?"

In any other situation Dean would've said yes.

* * *

" _She's_ crazy."

"It's her brother, Dean."

"He's crazy."

"It's his _wife_ , what do you expect?"

"So he goes full-metal jacket on us? We're his _family_ , Sam!"

"Look, man. Bigger fish, okay? We've got a bunch of zombies about to turn this entire town into a chew toy."

"Yeah, and they're alone in the house making pie with two of 'em!"

"All right, so?"

"So…I'm gunna have to go back there," said Dean. "And kill 'em. I know Elena sure as hell won't be able to do it. Bobby…yeah, doubtful…it's the only thing I can think of!"

"If he sees you, you're a dead man," Sam pointed out.

"Well, then I guess I won't let him see me."

"Okay," Sam sighed. "I'll head into town and rescue everyone. Should be easy."

"Sounds like."

Sam scoffed.

"I'm going to need some help."

"What about the Sheriff?"

"Uh, last time I checked over there the Sheriff was pro-zombie."

"Well, I guess you'll just have to convince her."

"… _How?_ " Sam asked.

"I don't know, you're just gunna."

* * *

"Lena," Jaime complained. "I don't feel good."

"What's the matter, sweetie?" she asked, though she didn't stop walking with his hand in hers. Every now and then she glanced over her shoulder, keeping an eye out for a black Impala or a flash of plaid in the distance.

"I feel hot."

She stopped their brisk pace along the road and bent over to feel his forehead and his cheeks. He was burning up. She kissed his forehead and took his hand again.

"We're getting some ice cream now," she promised. "That should cool you off…come on, let's go."

"Lena," he said after another couple minutes of passing under streetlamps. He looked up at her with large, brown eyes. Their mom's eyes. "I'm hungry."

Her eyes widened marginally at the subtle shift in his, and his hand slipped out of hers.

"I know, Jay. We're going to get some ice cream, okay?" she said, and guided him past the department stores. Warmed metal pressing against her thigh reminded her of what was there, loaded: her promise to Dean before he and Sam starting driving into town. But she knew Dean. There was no doubt in her mind that he was coming back to the house, which was why she left.

Maybe that made her stupid. Maybe that made her a good sister for once.

She bought him an ice cream cone and nothing for herself. She'd lost her appetite after watching the boy devour the three scoops and the cone in a matter of minutes. He'd never been able to eat three scoops in his life.

They walked back toward the house. Elena was hastening, though Jaime was lagging behind.

"Come on, Jay. We're almost there—"

She gasped as his pale, clammy hand closed tightly on her wrist.

* * *

Dean ran back toward the house and broke in through the kitchen door. A shot rang out, and he hurried toward the sound.

" _Bobby!_ " he called, and ran into the living room with his rifle at the ready. He found Bobby holding his dead wife's hand, her blood staining the pillow beneath her head. He turned to Dean with an expression so heartbroken that it hurt to look at him.

"Where's Elena?" he asked quickly. "Is she still in the house?"

The front door lock clicked, and the door opened slowly. Elena came through, blood covering the right side of her face and splattered on her clothes. Her long hair was loose, disheveled, the strands near her ears plastered to her face. She stopped at the doorway and faltered. Dean set his gun down and steadied her before prying the pistol out of her shaking hand.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, trying and failing to wipe the blood from her cheek. Her eyes were unfocused, unresponsive. "Elena?"

" _Elena_ ," he said again, and she finally blinked up at him. "Are you okay?"

Her lips trembled, and he wrapped his arms around her when she crumbled in a mess of hiccupping sobs. He shushed her softly and quickly led her to the kitchen, wet a small towel with warm water and cleaned her face and neck, then her arms and hands. By the time he was done her tears were few.

"Bobby and I are going to help Sammy. You're going to stay in the panic room, okay?" Dean brushed her hair away from her face kept touching her to make sure she was seeing and hearing him. "We're gunna be back, but you don't leave that room. Got it?"

After a moment, she nodded.

"Okay," he said in relief and led her down to the basement. She stepped into the steel room at looked up at him silently.

"I'll be back soon," he promised. "Wait for me."

Finally, her blank expression cracked the slightest bit.

"Be careful," she said, her voice small. He nodded and closed the heavy door.

* * *

It was a long night of hacking zombies that drove Dean and Bobby into a tiny hallway closet back in the house. They hadn't even made it in the van or off the property before they were attacked by the entire feeding frenzy. But Sam and Jody Mills came and took off the heads of the last ten or so zombies clamoring to get the two hunters inside.

By morning the bodies were burned in the cemetery, smoke collecting above, and the brothers found Bobby and Elena with the final two bodies in his backyard. It was a message from Death, relayed through Karen. The old hunter and his niece were keeping Sam and Dean from their destinies as vessels.

Whether to kill them or break their spirits to get them out of the way, whoever Death was…he just might have won.


	7. Black Hole Sun

**AN: Thank you guys for such awesome feedback! I really appreciate all of you, so I'm sorry this update was a bit late. The chapter title is by Soundgarden. I'm gunna be covering a lot of ground in this one so hopefully it makes up for the wait.**

* * *

 _ **What It Takes**_

" _Stuttering, cold and damp, steal the warm wind tired friend  
Times are gone for honest men, and sometimes far too long for snakes  
In my shoes, a walking sleep in my youth I pray to keep  
Heaven send hell away, no one sings like you anymore  
Black hole sun, won't you come  
And wash away the rain,"_

— _Soundgarden_

 _VII: Black Hole Sun_

The first night after Sioux Falls turned wild and bloody, Dean was woken up by the woman shaking in his arms. Neither of them slept much when the other had nightmares, but it was better than sleeping alone. She'd been doing better the past few months. He knew it was coming though, after he unlocked the panic room and found her sitting exactly where he left her an hour before. She hadn't moved an inch, and she didn't say a word when he took her hand and led her out of the basement.

When she couldn't talk about it, about anything, it was bad. But he was the last one who was going to push her. When she didn't make a sound the rest of the day, just laid on the couch staring at the TV (that wasn't even turned on until Sam sat in the sofa chair and put on the Discovery Channel), Dean knew it would be worse.

He didn't remember all the things he said while he held her that night. Hell, he was pretty sure half of it wasn't coherent, but in the morning Sam agreed with him on one thing: they wouldn't leave Sioux Falls until they had to.

Dean was pouring himself a cup of steaming coffee when she came downstairs and slowly made her way to the kitchen, then sat at the table next to Sam. He smiled softly at her. She tried and failed.

"You want some?" Dean held up the pot for her to see.

She nodded. He phrased his next question specifically, holding a spoon in his hand.

"How much sugar?"

He saw her hesitate, but held out for when she said, "Two."

"Cream?"

"...You always put cream."

Her voice was still coarse with sleep (and maybe disuse), but Dean caught the flicker of Sam's smile behind his own cup. A small grin crept on Dean's face.

"Forgot," he shrugged, and set a white mug down in front of her. "But here, I'm lettin' you use mymug."

Elena raised a brow and turned it around on the table, revealing the black and yellow Batman symbol on the other side. Her mouth twitched.

"That's gotta count for something," he said. She sighed, but finally cracked a better attempt at a smile before sipping her coffee. They sat in a more comfortable silence for a while. Sam was on his laptop while Dean read the paper and Elena read the back page when she thought Dean wasn't looking. Obituaries.

"You two looking for a case?" she asked eventually, breaking the easy mood.

The brothers glanced at one another discreetly, but it was Dean who said,

"You've got a doctor's appointment tomorrow, don't you?"

Her expression slackened in realization. It took her a minute to answer.

"Forgot about that," she murmured.

"You don't wanna go?"

Elena's gaze drifted.

"I don't know…"

Even though he usually got the creeps at the thought of anything remotely close to a hospital, Dean didn't want her to cancel. Anything to get her out of this house.

"It's gunna be a while until they have another opening," he said. "And it's half an hour from Hill City."

It was roughly a five hour drive, but maybe ten minutes from her house where she had copies of her medical records and financial information stored if they needed it.

"You guys could visit your friend," Sam added. "Val, right?"

Elena nodded, yet another pinprick of guilt to add on a mounting pile. They hadn't talked in months, and she still hadn't even told her friend she was pregnant. But she looked over at Sam with a frown.

"You're not coming?" she asked. Sam smiled a bit. He had wanted to give them their space, but she looked genuinely confused.

"I will if you want me to."

It took her a moment, but Elena's small smile was genuine.

* * *

Just watching her filling out the five pages (front and back) of medical stuff was stressful enough, and all Dean had to do was sit there. He did give her the insurance information he put together back when she first made the appointment. When she was finished checking every box and writing out several signatures (an alias, to be sure), he brought the clipboard of papers to the receptionist and grabbed a sports magazine without much of an intention to read it on the way back to his seat, between Sam and Elena.

Both were quiet. Sam bounced his knee while Elena idly twisted pieces of a now ripped up brochure in her lap. Dean noticed they were the same when they were nervous: quiet and fidgety. Her reason was obvious enough. But Dean knew his brother was never comfortable in doctor's offices, even if it wasn't his appointment.

He dropped the magazine onto Sam's lap and slipped a hand into Elena's, lacing their fingers together and stilling her movements. Both looked over at him, the former questioning and the latter with veiled gratitude, until Sam tentatively flipped the magazine open and Elena leaned over, resting on Dean's shoulder. She closed her eyes, and it was more peaceful than he'd seen her in the past three days, nervousness aside.

The door next to the reception desk eventually opened to a nurse in her mid-forties peering at a clip board through her glasses.

"Alannah?" she called into the half-full waiting room. "Alannah Myles?"

Dean squeezed Elena's hand and bowed his head near her ear.

"That's you, babe."

"I know."

She sighed and opened her eyes, nodding at the nurse with a polite smile as she prepared to stand.

"Here we go," she murmured.

* * *

The doctor was nice, Dean guessed. A little too peppy for being in her fifties, but she wasn't patronizing, and she didn't make a big deal over it being her first time seeing a doctor even though she was over four months. She didn't even touch on the fact that the two of them weren't married.

After the extensive physical exam Sam and Dean waited outside the room for, Dr. Freeman welcomed them back inside.

"Now, as a new mommy you're probably experiencing some changes," Dr. Freeman said with a knowing smile. "Are you having trouble sleeping? Nausea, or what's classically known as 'morning sickness'?"

Elena smiled back weakly.

"A bit, yeah. In the beginning I was sleeping all the time, but…not as well recently." Her smile faded. Both brothers watched the bit of newfound light in her eyes dim.

"Sickness too?" Dr. Freeman asked, her own expression dimming somewhat, but her voice retained its cheerful tone.

Elena cleared her throat a little, returning to herself.

"More in the beginning," she admitted, "It's calmed down now."

Dr. Freeman recorded that in her binder.

"Okaaaay, now have you been steering away from fatty, sugary, and all things yum?" she asked. "No alcohol, smoking, drugs, all that bad stuff?"

"Soups, salads and sandwiches mainly." Elena had been wanting to drink less anyway. This technically gave her the perfect excuse.

"Do you have any bad reactions to certain smells, the sight of raw food maybe?"

Elena's face withered slightly in distaste.

"I can't look at it or smell it…that and cleaning chemicals make me nauseous."

Oddly enough, the sight of blood didn't do anything to her. The smell of it though…

"That's common," the doctor nodded sympathetically. "Now, cravings…"

The questions went on for a few minutes longer, until Dean was caught off guard by some directed at him and Sam included.

"Now, are we looking at supplies? A crib, changing table, things like that?" she asked.

Dean blanked.

 _Shit._

"Yeah, uh…we've been looking at some stuff," he tried not to stammer.

"Babies R'Us," Sam interjected with a smile, effectively saving his brother. Elena picked up on it.

"Yeah, Target, places like that," she added. Not even half true, but the doctor didn't need to know that. Dr. Freeman smiled.

"You know, you can get memberships there so it costs you less for everything you'll need. There are a lot of good checklists available online."

"It's been…pretty crazy lately," Dean said, and turned to Elena. "We just haven't had the chance, but we're already getting on it."

"Yeah, definitely," she nodded. Part of her always hated lying through her teeth, but she'd learned the fine art of compulsive lying early on. It wasn't hard with having Jack Hayes as a father, who had spent five years of his career as an undercover cop before he decided he was better suited for homicide detective work.

"Well good. I'll bet you're excited to be parents, huh?" Dr. Freeman grinned at all three of them, which kind of confused Sam.

"Yeah, it was…kind of a surprise," said Dean.

"Oh really?" she said, then her smile turned more kind. "Well, since this is your first visit I'll bet you don't know the gender of the baby."

Elena's eyes widened with interest. Her hand tightened on Dean's.

"Would you like to find out?"

Fifteen minutes and Elena was sitting in the medical chair with her shirt pushed up and cold jelly-like stuff on her belly, which seemed bigger than the last time she'd really _looked_. Dr. Freeman stood beside her with a sort of corded remote in her hand while Sam and Dean stood on her other side.

"Ready?" she asked. Elena bit her lip, and she nodded. The remote pressed gently, rubbing the jelly top to bottom, side to side. Her mouth fell open in a soft gasp.

"Congratulations," Dr. Freeman spoke softly after she had time to analyze the screen. "You're having a baby girl."

Dean's hand fell on her shoulder, squeezing gently, and Elena grasped onto him. There was a baby inside her. Tiny, with little clenched hands and little feet and closed eyes. She didn't realize she was crying until her tears were being wiped away. She looked over and both brothers were smiling, Sam's hand clasped on Dean's shoulder.

Dean kissed her and settled his hand at the base of her neck, tangling in her hair as he went back to watching the ultrasound with veiled wonder.

 _We made that_ , he thought. This was happening, and it was suddenly very, very real.

Sam reached out his other hand to Elena, and she took it.

"She's about four and a half months," Dr. Freeman continued, and proceeded to point out anatomical details before bringing out a Fetal Doppler stethoscope to let them listen to the heartbeat. It was so fast it didn't seem real, a whopping sound that had all of them straining to hear.

"Is Mommy happy?" the doctor asked. Elena could only nod and bite her lip hard as she wiped at her eyes. Dr. Freeman then turned to Sam and Dean. "And Daddies-to-be?"

Both blinked.

"O-Oh," Sam said. Realization hit him faster than Dean. "N-No, we're not… _I'm_ not…"

Dean still looked confused, while Elena was turning red…trying to contain herself from doubling over laughing.

"I'm his brother," Sam finally managed. When it finally clicked for Dean, he only stared blankly and wondered vaguely why this always happened.

"Ah," the doctor said with a nervous chuckle, realizing her mistake. "Daddy and Uncle-to-be, then."

"Yeah," Dean nodded with an amused smile (and the remnants of embarrassment).

At least they got a picture out of it.

* * *

The same picture Val held in her hands carefully, even as her shoulders moved in time with her sniffling.

"My God, Lena…" she choked out through tears. Elena bit her lip, trying and failing to blink hers away.

"I know." She wiped her eyes, but couldn't look away from the picture. "I'm sorry, Val. Things have been going so fast…but it's no excuse for—"

"Hey, hey, I get it." Val looked over at the other woman with a gentle smile, her eyes still glassy, but with a playful glint. "You've been busy."

Elena had to laugh, though it was somewhat stifled.

"You could say that."

The two sat closely together on Val's couch while Sam and Dean raided the stock of beers in the kitchen. With permission.

"She looks better," Sam said quietly. Dean leaned against the island counter and took a healthy swig from the bottle in his hands. She was crying, and guilt was evident in her eyes, but her smile was real.

"It's what she needed, Sammy."

That earned a glance from Sam. His brother surprised him sometimes. He'd changed from the no strings attached, thinks he's invincible kind of guy he was when he broke into Sam's apartment in the middle of the night. Dean smiled less, and he drank more, but he was still the man Sam looked up to, even after everything that had happened since. Dean carried a hell of a lot. So much that Sam didn't know how he did it, how he was even doing it now.

"What about you?" he asked. His brother blinked and glanced over at him.

"What about me?"

"You know…with all this," Sam said tactfully. "With Elena and…everything else."

Dean raised a brow and grinned a little, though not out of amusement.

"The end of the world, you mean?" he said, and scoffed. "Yeah, perfect timing right?"

When Sam didn't quit staring at him, Dean sighed.

"Look, I'm dealing with this as it comes." He glanced over at the two women talking and laughing in the other room. His expression dimmed with his voice, "I don't know what's gunna happen."

He took another generous sip from his beer that was warmer now, but still cold down his throat.

"But even if it does end bloody," he turned to his brother with a seriousness that almost surprised Sam. "No matter what happens, they're making it through this."

After a moment, Sam nodded in agreement.

Val wiped her eyes and gave Elena the photo.

"So are you getting stuff and making room and all that?" she asked. Elena sighed.

"We haven't had a whole lot of time. I've been staying with Bobby, but I don't know if I could put all this on him like that, taking even _more_ space than I already am."

"What about your house?"

Elena didn't know what to do. Her house in Hill City was ideal, even if it didn't really feel like home anymore. But with the Apocalypse hanging overhead, it wasn't exactly safe for her to be living by herself anyway. That was partially the reason why she was staying with Bobby in the first place. She hadn't asked him about turning the other bedroom on the second floor into the baby's room, but it was something they might need to consider, even if it would be cramped.

If they lived through another year, that is.

"There are a lot of things up in the air right now," she said honestly, trying to ignore the well of anxiety in her stomach, crawling up into her throat. "I don't…I don't even have a crib. I don't know how to heat up bottles, change a diaper. I don't know how to do any of this."

It was the same helpless feeling she had when she'd broken down in front of Cas, but this time, she didn't have to try so hard to keep it together. While Val wouldn't understand the rest of it—the end of the world and Lucifer and angels bit—Elena knew Val understood this part of it at least. The cliché unmarried, pregnant girl who wasn't ready.

The older woman hugged her close and said all the things Elena wouldn't have expected her to, given her usual bluntness.

"It's gunna be all right," she said. "I'm here for you. That's not going to change. You've got Dean, and he's not going anywhere either, you know that. Same thing for Sam and your uncle."

Elena nodded into Val's shoulder, letting out a shaky breath. The older woman pulled away a bit only when Elena calmed down. Val gave her a bright smile.

"I've never seen you give up," she said. "At anything. There's no doubt in my mind that you can do this."

* * *

It was pretty late in the evening when they left Val's apartment, despite her offer for them to stay the night, even if it was only a one-bedroom. Though Elena protested, Dean stopped after two hours of driving to check into a motel. They were all tired, and on the drive up to Hill City, she had hurt her back sleeping in the backseat. He'd rather her be comfortable in a bed, and Sam agreed.

But she ended up waking up earlier than either of them anyway and decided to surprise them with real coffee for when they woke up. It was still pretty early morning; the Dunkin' Donuts next door had just opened by the time she got there. She bought a few bagels with cream cheese and coffees and made her way through the empty lobby and down the quiet hall. She didn't think there were many people here anyway, with maybe four cars in the parking lot.

Alarm bells went off in her head when she saw the door to their room left slightly ajar. Inside she could hear Sam, and two other distinct voices she couldn't quite place, even though they were familiar. Elena set down the food and the coffee on the floor, against the wall, and peeked through the crack in the door.

"Here me out. I can explain, okay?"

Her eyes widened at seeing Roy and Walt pointing their guns at the brothers, who still looked disheveled with sleep.

 _What are_ _ **they**_ _doing here?_ she thought, but her mind raced to figure out what to do. Her gun was inside, and she was at a not so slight disadvantage.

"Please," Sam said earnestly, looking up at Walt. The other man hesitated, but the shot that rang out was deafening.

"Stay the hell down," Roy told Dean, who immediately started going to his brother. Elena was immobilized, in shock, or else she would've screamed. The grief was stuck in her throat, choking her into silence. She could only stare in mute horror at Sam's lifeless body, and Dean doing the same.

"Shoot him," said Walt. Roy looked unsure.

"Killing Sam was right, but Dean—"

"He made us, and we just snuffed his brother, you idiot. You want to spend the rest of your life knowing Dean Winchester is on your ass? 'Cause I sure don't. Shoot 'im."

Dean finally looked over at Roy, cold, but the raw fury was just underneath.

"Go ahead, Roy. Do it," he said, and turned toward him on the bed to give him a clear shot. "But I'm gunna warn you. When I come back…I'm gunna be _**pissed**_."

Roy held the rifle trained on Dean, but he was still hesitating. Elena's breath quickened in a small gasp, and Dean heard it. His eyes flicked to the door and caught hers. His expression slackened in realization.

"Come on already," Walt said impatiently. The door flew open and Dean saw a flash of dark hair and the terror on her face, but the last thing he registered was the bullet in his chest.

* * *

Heaven was not what Dean thought it would be, but at first, he couldn't say it was bad. Of course, he didn't really remember he was dead until Cas started talking at him from Baby's radio speakers. After that, finding Sam at that house wasn't too hard, though he didn't remember entirely what happened to them until Sam said,

"I don't remember the road to _Heaven_ being paved with good intentions."

The phrase triggered lyrics from one of his favorite bands to float through his head, though that also reminded him of something else.

" _Lena," he stepped toward her with the gentle intention of taking her hand. "That wasn't your fault. But that's not Jaime."_

 _She recoiled from him and glared up at him through tears._

" _Do you know what it's like," she sniffed, "After twenty years, for him to tell you it wasn't your fault? A six-year-old that remembers all the words to 'Stairway to Heaven' because I taught it to him, and that's not my brother?"_

A scream and dark hair flashed through his memory. The terror frozen on her face. The bullet in his chest that brought him to a field with his little brother and fireworks.

"Sam," he said raggedly. Sam noticed his brother's alarm and stilled.

"What?"

"Elena—Elena's still down there," Dean said. "She's there with those bastards."

* * *

She screamed for them to stop, but Walt fired the gun. Roy was so caught off guard she was able to slam her fist into his nose and heard an audible crack. She twisted the gun out of his grip, but it fell to the floor before she could get a proper hold of it.

Roy gathered enough of his bearings to grab her wrist and swing her around. Realizing he couldn't reach easily around her stomach, he settled for gripping her upper arms tightly enough to bruise.

Elena struggled, but the fight had long since left her once her gaze fell on Dean lying on the bed. His eyes were half-lidded, their stare vacant. His chest was bloody and still pooling underneath him and soaking in the mattress.

Once the tears started, she couldn't stop them.

"What do we do with her?" Roy asked, reluctance again coloring his tone. It was one thing to kill Sam, another to kill his brother, who would have never stopped hunting them down if they left him alive. But they had worked with Elena, and it was rather obvious why she couldn't put up more of a fight, her emotional state notwithstanding.

Walt still had his gun cocked, but this time he was the one to hesitate. Elena slowly looked up at him, her hair falling over tear-streaked cheeks.

"How many hunters are you going to take out today?" she asked icily.

When he sneered, lowering his gun, she glared at him through glassy, slate-gray eyes.

"I always knew you were a selfish dick," she said. "I didn't realize you were a murdering bastard."

He narrowed his eyes, his lips pursing. The back of his hand came so fast it stunned her, but that didn't mean it didn't sting like a bitch. If Roy hadn't been holding her up, she might've stumbled and fallen.

Walt grabbed a rickety wooden chair from the nearby table, one of the few furnishings in the room.

"Tie her up. Maid'll come by eventually."

* * *

Either the road to the Garden had a detour in the wilderness, or Zachariah _wanted_ to give them places to hide. He could've zapped them in the middle of a desert, but fortunately for the brothers, they were able to sneak away with Ash's help before the angel realized they were gone.

It was oddly nostalgic, being in the Roadhouse again, and even more bizarre talking to Ash, of all people. The guy was still a genius, even if his shirt had beer stains and he was still rocking the mullet. When Pam walked through the back doors, though, the main thing both brothers were brought back to on instinct was a plan in a dingy motel room gone horribly wrong.

But she hugged them both warmly and later with a sincere pitch to Dean about how content she was, how great Heaven could be. He got it. He did, but an eternity in his own little world while the angels ran the show didn't exactly appeal to him.

She hugged him again after Ash pinpointed a gate to the Garden, and Dean had to restrain a smirk when she grabbed the collar of Sam's shirt and pulled him down to her for a steamy goodbye kiss.

"Just like I imagined," she said, her smile making Sam slightly nervous, but he couldn't say it was bad. Not in the least.

"And Dean," she said, turning to Dean one last time before they left. Her eyes softened. "Tell your girl to stop beating herself up, 'bout what happened to me. It wasn't her fault."

Dean nodded after a moment, and he grinned, gesturing to their familiar surroundings that still held memories.

"I'll tell her you've got the best seat in the house."

But leaving the Roadhouse (maybe not for the last time) didn't bring them to the Garden. First it brought them home, to a house Sam only knew from being in one of Dean's memories, where Zachariah was waiting for them.

* * *

She could've reached her phone, even gotten out of her bonds herself if she tried. Hell, she could scream and eventually someone would come, but if they hadn't heard the gunshots, she doubted anyone would come in a hurry. Really, she didn't care. Her wrists were tied behind the back of the chair, her ankles to the front legs, and the two most important people to her were dead.

Her throat hurt and her eyes burned from crying as long as she had, and her face was warm, but her insides were cold. Goosebumps raised on her legs that were only partially covered by the skirt of her sundress. She'd taken to wearing them more often because they were one of the few things that fit, besides sweatpants. Now she wished she'd made them take up Val's offer to stay the night. She wished she would've told Dean more firmly to keep driving to Sioux Falls.

 _He only stopped for you._

Elena felt like throwing up.

Until Sam gasped loudly and sat up in bed, scaring a scream out of her. His eyes were wide and wild as he took in his surroundings, but were drawn to his brother who also woke, heaving air. Their eyes met, then turned to Elena. She burst into fresh tears, spurring both brothers into action.

She was a shaking, emotional wreck as Dean knelt in front of her while Sam started untying her wrists.

"Are you hurt?" Dean asked quickly, alternating his attention between the ropes around her ankles and her face.

" _D-Dean_ ," she managed to choke out, though she was trying to breathe in without hiccupping. He paused from his task and reached up to brush back her hair out of her eyes. He took her face in his hands and wiped her cheeks.

"Hey, hey, I'm okay. I'm here," he said gently, though his gruff voice calmed her a bit. He grasped her upper arms. "You gotta tell me, did they hurt you?"

Elena shook her head, though she winced when he marginally tightened his grip. Dean immediately let go, but he pushed up her sleeves and saw the small bruises caused by fingertips pressing into skin. He then studied her face, noticing how she looked away from his eyes. He pushed thick strands of hair behind her ear and finally saw the large red mark on her cheek.

Sam tossed the ropes to the side and watched his brother's expression harden, watched him clench his fists on his thighs and caught his gaze when it shifted to Sam. Very rarely had he seen Dean as furious.

"I'll fucking kill 'em," Dean growled lowly, just barely containing his rage. "I'm gunna find 'em, put a bullet through _**both**_ their skulls. No, you know what? Fuck that—"

"Dean," Sam interrupted quietly, but meaningfully as he watched Elena in both concern and pity. He understood his brother's anger—hell, Dean wasn't the only one—but right now it wasn't really helping.

Elena was shaking and crying again, her breathing shallow. Dean softened. He helped her out of the chair and into his arms. She went willingly, burrowing into him despite the blood still staining his shirt.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured into her hair. Still she trembled, and pressed so close to him, Dean could feel her heart beating erratically, going too fast.

Guiltily, he wondered how long she'd been sitting in here with their dead bodies.

"Calm down, Lena," he said. "You're okay. Sammy and I are fine, just breathe."

"H-How?" she managed coarsely.

"I'll tell you later," he promised. But first, they needed to get Cas here and figure out what the hell they were going to do about God washing his hands of humanity.

Castiel came at Sam's call, though after they told him everything Joshua had to say, he looked more lost than Dean had ever seen him.

"Maybe…Joshua was lying," he said.

"I'm sorry, Cas," Sam said apologetically. "I think he was telling the truth."

The angel paused for a moment, then slowly turned and did something Dean never thought he would do. Cas cursed his father.

He then reached into his pocket.

"Here," he said, and tossed Dean his amulet back. "I don't need this anymore…it's worthless."

He turned toward the door, even though Sam tried to stop him.

"Cas, _wait_ a minute—"

But the angel was gone in a distant flutter of wings. Sam sighed and continued shoving things in his duffel with a little more force than necessary.

"We'll find another way," he said. "We can still stop all this, Dean."

"How?" Dean asked, looking up from the necklace in his hands.

"I don't know, but we'll find it," Sam said earnestly. "You and me, we'll find it."

Dean considered the amulet for a second more, then slung his bag over his shoulder before helping Elena up from the edge of the bed. With a hand on her shoulder he steered her to the door, and opened it. The leather string holding amulet hung from his fingers over the trashcan by the door, and he dropped it in, following Elena outside.

He didn't look back.


	8. What It Takes

**AN: Chapter title by Aerosmith. Thanks to all who reviewed! It means so much.**

* * *

 _ **What It Takes**_

" _Tell me what it takes to let you go._ _  
_ _Tell me how the pain's supposed to go._ _  
_ _And tell me how it is that you can sleep  
In the night without thinkin'_ _  
_ _Without thinkin' you lost ev'rything  
That was good in your life to the toss of the dice_ _,"_

— _Aerosmith_

 _VIII: What It Takes_

"Come on. That can't be _every_ one."

"There's only so many I remember. You're not the only one who's been doing this for a while."

"Yeah, but I remember more than _two_."

"Ugh, fine. Let me think…well, Pat."

"Unless your last name is Benatar, that's a no."

"Well, it was when _I_ used it."

"You had Cindy Lauper for a doctor's ID."

"Cindy's my aunt's name."

"Okay, that's—"

"I think she still hates my guts."

Dean looked over at her. "Why's that?"

Elena avoided his eyes out of embarrassment and tucked her legs closer together on the couch, using his arm as leverage.

"I might've…accidentally shot her cat when I was ten."

His arm slid around her waist as she made herself more comfortable against him.

"In my defense," she said quickly, "it was in the middle of the night on a camping trip. I could've _sworn_ it was a wendigo."

He snorted, unsurprised.

"Why'd she bring it to a camping trip?"

"Well, it was in her backyard."

"…I'm pretty sure wendigoes don't snatch people from Bel-Air."

She smiled involuntarily, though she grumbled.

"It wasn't _Bel-Air_."

"But close enough, right?" Dean teased. Elena rolled her eyes. It was her mother's side of the family that had money; enough that her marriage to a slightly lower than middle class Hayes had bred resentment between her and the rest of the Tiberio family. Elena had met a select few of them, her grandmother Vivian and Aunt Cindy being the only ones she truly _knew_. She did her best to avoid her cousins.

"Okay, let me get back to this," he relented, returning his attention to the laptop open in front of him.

 _Increasing lightning storms in Pipestone, Minnesota_ , he read. _"Worst storm in over a decade."_

"I used Diana Ross once."

 _Power surges…_

"Donna Lewis…no. No, forget that."

 _These look like demon omens_ , he thought.

"Jennifer…maybe Jenny? I always did like Ann, like Ann Wilson."

Dean would tell Sam when he got back from picking up food. As much as he didn't feel like leaving, spending what were probably their last weeks chasing after shit from Hell's gift basket, he couldn't be idle. He couldn't do any more doctor's appointments and ultrasounds and domesticity. He couldn't keep pretending everything was going to be all right.

 _Bobby might have something on these omens._

If he concentrated, Dean could hear distant snoring down the hall.

 _Maybe not._

"Dean," Elena said, finally earning his attention. He smiled a little at the look on her face, like she wanted to ask him something, but wasn't sure.

"What'cha got?"

"What do you think about…Ann. Ann Marie," she said. "Like Mary."

His smile faded.

 _Mom_.

It touched something deep without giving him a chance to protect against it.

The smile returned slowly. Then he leaned over and kissed above her brow.

"I like it."

"Yeah?" He could hear the hope in her voice.

"Yeah," he said, his voice gruff.

Elena looked up at him and smiled.

"We could call her Annie! That's cute, right?"

His lips quirked up into a half-grin.

"Only if she doesn't start singin' show tunes."

Annie. It was familiar, like _too_ familiar. What he couldn't figure out was why.

 _Where—_

The front door opened to Sam, a takeout bag in hand.

"What'd you get?" Elena asked. He made his way over to the living room and set his load down on the coffee table.

"Something I think you'll like," he said, smiling. She returned it, while Dean set the laptop aside and slid forward in his seat.

"Smells amazing," he said, and opened the large, paper bag. Pasta sauce wafted from the steam inside, making his mouth water.

"Oooh, don't tell me, you got my favorite," Elena said, and sat up on the couch.

The smell appealed to her Italian roots, just as the beer Sam hefted onto the table would've appealed to the Irish ones she inherited from her father, if she'd been able to indulge it.

Dean retrieved a takeout box and opened it.

"Aw yeah," he grinned. Calzones. They rarely ever got Italian, even though there was a really good restaurant down the road called _Russo's_. It made the best spaghetti and meatballs Dean had ever had. The last time they went was one week they stayed at Bobby's, years ago, when he and Sam were kids.

"I'll get some plates and stuff," said Elena. She got up with some effort and made her way into the kitchen. Dean watched her go for a moment before turning back to Sam, who was taking out the rest of the food.

"You splurged a bit," Dean commented as he took out the plastic silverware and napkins. Sam gave him a cursory glance.

"Not really," he hedged. "They're all cheese and pepperoni, nothing fancy."

Dean nodded and made a noncommittal sound. It wasn't exactly like he was counting the change in his pocket anymore.

"I just thought we all could use a little," Sam hesitated on the right word, "pick-me-up, I guess."

"Yeah," Dean said after a moment. "Hey, I might've found us a case."

Sam perked up, thinking his brother maybe found something to work with as far as their current problem.

"Oh yeah?" he said hopefully. "A lead?"

"Nah," Dean shook his head, "but there's some heavy demon action going on in Pipestone, Minnesota. Podunk town, but somethin's goin' down there."

"Doesn't hurt to check it out then, I guess," Sam said. "Especially if demons are overrunning the town for something specific."

"Yeah maybe," Dean muttered and bit into a calzone. Before Sam could make a remark, Elena was back with plates, two glasses of soda and a beer. They explained the case to her as they ate, and then to Bobby when he woke from his nap at the smell of food.

"Sounds like you boys have somethin'," said Bobby around a mouthful of bread and cheese. "Ain't my job to tell ya how to do yours."

Elena was quiet throughout the conversation. She didn't say much while they were packing either, just offered to make them sandwiches for when they got hungry again (which for Dean would probably be in a couple hours). He noticed though, and had an idea why.

"Stay safe," Sam said, his taller frame dwarfing the woman as he hugged her warmly.

" _You_ stay safe," she replied. "I'll man the phones."

"Good," he laughed, and tugged a strand of her hair teasingly before pulling away. He turned to Dean with his duffel slung over his shoulder. "I'm gunna go load up the car."

Dean tossed him the keys, then turned to Elena as the front door shut. Her smile had faded, and she stood with her arms wrapped about herself. He pulled her toward him and kissed the top of her head. He felt bad for leaving, but he was getting restless, not hunting for so long. Granted, he'd probably needed the time with her just as much as she had needed him, but he dealt with most of his stress by ganking evil sons of bitches. Going on a hunt or two with Sam would be better for all of them.

"I'll see you soon," he said. She didn't readily respond, but she eventually leaned against him, sighing.

"I better."

Dean squeezed her gently, then pulled back to offer a reassuring smile. Her lips twitched upward on instinct. He kissed her once and she watched him walk out the door, hoping to God he was right. Even if it fell on deaf ears.

* * *

Going into Pipestone, Sam saw the real change in his brother once Leah started making town laws. It wasn't bad enough that everything was on them—that it was their fault the Apocalypse was happening and that they were the only ones who could do anything about it. It wasn't enough that they'd gotten good people killed trying.

Doors kept shutting on them, and the only reason why Sam was still holding on was because he'd never once seen Dean give up. Not on John, and not on him (not entirely anyway). Until that night, because the Dean he knew would never see a town being manipulated and pushed around by angels and _not give a shit_.

He'd lost hope. In Cas. In God. And in Sam.

It hadn't gotten better after Cas finally answered Sam's call and showed up _drunk_. It hadn't gotten better after they found out Leah was actually the Whore of Babylon, or after Dean was able to stab her with that damn branch. That Dean was a true servant of Heaven.

Sam had seen the signs, but he hadn't wanted to believe his brother would ever think about giving the angels what they wanted.

But he really shouldn't have been surprised when Dean took off without him.

* * *

The house was quiet, like it had been all week. Bobby had been roped into going with Rufus, who'd wanted to borrow the man's van. If Bobby didn't go with, his van would probably be totaled by the time it got back to him.

So Elena answered the phones, straightened up the books and newspaper clippings haphazardly strewn about, and even worked up the courage to find the shoebox underneath her bed again. She flipped through the pictures as she folded laundry in the living room.

There were a lot more than she thought there would be—mostly of her aunt and uncle when they were younger. A few were of Sam and Dean, maybe a couple years ago. One was of the four of them, Christmas last year. Dean got it at a wide angle of them at the table, holding it as high as he could to get his brother into the frame.

She remembered the picture. Just before, Dean had just tipped half the rum into Bobby's eggnog. The old man hadn't even noticed. It had been so hard not to laugh after having three cups of the stuff already with the apple pie, nearly an empty tin in the photo.

But Elena was surprised to hear the unmistakable engine rumbling down the street and into the driveway, and then cutting out. She dropped the shirt she was folding back on the pile and practically ran to the door (but if it was who Elena thought it was, she would say she'd _hastened_ ). She opened the door and smiled brightly at Dean walking up the well-worn path to her uncle's door.

"Hey," she greeted, "I didn't know—"

He didn't bother with the pleasantries, just gently took her face in his hands and kissed her with more emotion than he'd wanted to reveal right then. But her standing there, waiting for him with a smile and excitement in her eyes…

Fate was throwing it in his face—taunting him, when it fucking knew.

He had to lose everything.

And it was slowly killing him inside knowing he had to hurt her. Problem was, now she _knew_ something was up.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly when he pulled away. Dean still rested his forehead against hers, then opened his eyes to see her concern. He let out a breath, and it came out shakier than he'd intended.

 _Basically, everything's going to shit._

"There's a lot goin' on."

He let go of her and pulled away, but she followed him, soothing her hands over his shoulders and down his arms. Instinctually his hands found the familiar curve of her waist, grown thicker over the past few months.

"I know," she nodded, frowning. "But what's happening…what's so wrong that you came without Sam?"

His gaze shifted downward.

 _It's better if she thinks he's busy with the case._

And it was easier for him.

"Don't you lie to me," she said softly, when he opened his mouth to speak. Her gray eyes were hard, but he saw the worry mounting in them and wanted to kick himself. He could remember a time those words came from his own mouth, more than once. Dean knew he was a hypocrite.

But _fuck all_ this wasn't easy. So he shook his head.

"He doesn't know I'm here."

She looked surprised, and he couldn't blame her.

"Some heavy shit's going down," said Dean. "And…I gotta tell you something."

"What," she asked quietly, though a note of panic colored her tone. "If you couldn't tell me over the phone…"

"You know what we're up against," he said. "It's the fucking _Apocalypse_ , and…we're running out of ideas."

Elena blinked for a moment.

"But you have two of the four keys, there's still time—"

"It's happening, Lena. Already started," he said. "It's just a matter of how long before Lucifer makes his stand. If we let him, the world is _done_ , and everyone in it."

"I know that," she said slowly, suspicion lighting her gaze as she began to pull away from him. "This sounds like it's leading somewhere. Dean…"

He swallowed, his hold on her waist reflectively tightening.

"There's only one way I can make sure you and Sammy are safe," he explained. "I can make arrangements…conditions."

Little by little, realization and horror began to take hold as Elena's eyes grew wide.

"Dean," she warned, and tried to back out of his grasp in earnest. He held on. " _No—_ "

"I _have to_ , Elena."

"What—become Michael's _meat-suite?_ "

"Vessel," he corrected, but she slapped his chest. _Hard_. It stung, but he wasn't exactly surprised.

" _Are you fucking insane?_ " she exclaimed. She saw the look in his eyes. She knew he was serious. Knew it the second he said something was happening, because he wouldn't have come all the way here if he wasn't absolutely serious, wouldn't hold her like he was dying, like he knew he was about to do something _stupid_.

"You're talking about bringing on the fucking _Apocalypse_. What makes you think they're going to spare a little piece of the world just because you asked them to?"

"It's the only way they're getting me," he said, but she cut him off.

"And it's not like Michael's just going to _hand you back_ when he's offed his brother and half the planet. _Cas_ sure didn't with Jimmy Novak."

He blinked. Dean had almost forgotten that Cas had possessed a man, had taken away a father from his family.

"What you're saying, it's suicide," she trailed, until her expression changed to one of pained realization. "And you know that."

"Lena—"

"You would leave us," she said, and finally succeeded in pushing away. He reached out, and she turned from him. "Your brother, Bobby, me…"

Dean shook his head and swallowed past the lump of emotion forming in his throat, "It's not like that—"

" _ **The hell it isn't!**_ " Elena shouted, tears streaming freely down her face. "This is why you came? _Why?_ _**Why does it always have to be you?**_ "

She finally broke down crying, and that broke something inside Dean. He moved to her in cautious steps, and wrapped his arms around her. Despite herself, Elena pulled him to her fiercely, burying her face into the crook of his neck as her fingers desperately clung to his shirt. Her emotions were screwed to hell as it was, goddamn it, and he wasn't helping.

He shook his head in response.

"I'm not going to see you hurt."

"I thought…you said we survived this…in the future?" she asked, sniffling. His hold on her tightened, though she couldn't see how his expression changed to one of pain. The memory of that future was what was tormenting him. Because he knew now.

" _All right look, man. I'm sorry," said Dean. He leaned on the table in front of him and spotted a coin. Or what at first looked like a coin. On further inspection it was a ring of gold with an "A" occupying the space in the center. There was a small hold on the top where a chain could've fit through, which told him it was a necklace. He flipped it between his fingers and noticed subtle scratches along the outer edge of the ring._

" _Hey," his future self snapped, and snatched away the bobble quick, placing it in the inside of his pocket with a surprisingly gentle hand. "Don't touch that."_

" _What is it?" Dean asked. Future Dean clenched his jaw, reluctance and secrecy showing over his anger._

" _Not yours."_

" _I know. I'm sorry, man, but…" Dean couldn't help his curiosity. The other man hesitated, before humorlessly huffing._

" _That's right. You don't know her yet."_

"… _Who?"_

 _He turned away from Dean, but he just managed to catch him mutter a name._

"Sam didn't make it," he reminded her, and after a brief hesitation, confessed, "Neither did you."

It was a long moment before she was able to speak again.

"…And…and Annie?" she asked, voice trembling. Dean shut his eyes, burying his nose in her hair.

" _I know you won't. You won't say yes to Michael. And you won't kill Sam," he said. "Whatever you do, we will always end up…here."_

 _Lucifer gestured to the rose garden in which they stood._

" _You will try, with everything you have in you. To save your brother. To save your girlfriend. Bobby…" Dean's jaw clenched, and Sam's face gazed on him pityingly. "Annie."_

He felt Elena's body begin to tremble.

"I have no illusions," he whispered. "Even before this, I knew how my life was gunna end, and I was okay with that."

Dean was glad he didn't have to look her in the eyes. It would make this so much harder. His voice and his hands were already shaking as it was, buried in her hair and the back of her shirt.

"But when I do picture myself happy…honest to God, fucking _happy_ ," he said, "…it's with you. With Sam and Bobby…and our kid."

Elena wanted to hit him. Shout and shake him until he saw sense because he should know by now that she wanted that too. She wanted it more than she'd ever wanted anything; her father's approval, being a hunter, none of it compared. And until this moment, she didn't realize how much just the hope of it made her close to whole.

"Then stay," she pleaded. Her voice was stronger than she felt, but maybe it could be enough. "We can talk about this, we can find another way."

Dean shook his head again and kissed her cheek.

"I can't."

"Why not?" she said, " _Why do you have to_ _do this?_ "

"If there's just one chance that I can keep you safe," he said, "you know damn well I'm gunna take it."

She pulled back just enough to see his face. Dean wiped the tears from hers, smiling a little when she frowned angrily.

"You're unbelievable," she murmured.

His hand drifted down her neck to her shoulder, and smoothed down her arm.

"It's been said."

Her hand came to rest on his cheek. Elena smoothed through his hair with a look of deep affection, despite her frustration. His eyes closed at her touch. She reached up and pressed a kiss to his lips, giving everything she had. Eventually they parted, and she opened her eyes to see something reluctant and pained in his eyes. He didn't _want_ to leave.

"You can't ask me to—" She shook her head. "What would you do if you were me?"

"What would you do if you were _me?_ " he countered. "Any way you look at it, we'd still be where we are now."

It was a good thing her only neighbors were out of town, or she and Dean would be quite a sight, standing and having this conversation in the middle of her porch.

A tear ran down her cheek.

"I can't do this," she whispered coarsely.

"Course you can," he said. "You're a hell of a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, Lena."

She shook her head.

"Promise me you'll try," said Dean, "…for me."

 _Fuck that, this is stupid_ , was what she thought. She couldn't say anything but let the pitiful tears roll down, and she supposed he took that as her acceptance. Was she really this weak willed? Was she just going to let him walk out?

"And…and Annie," he struggled to get the words out without releasing the flood of emotion threatening to break loose. "Make sure she knows…"

Elena was still, but it was as if her body was on autopilot. There was a disconnect between what he was telling her and what she actually understood.

Then he started to let her go, and she panicked, gripping his arms tightly.

"Elena," he said gently, "I have to go."

"No."

"I'm sorry," he said, and gently pried her arms away. "I'm sorry."

He started walking away, even made it halfway to his car before Elena's brain kick-started once again, revived from its shock.

" _Wait_ ," she called, and _hastened_ from the porch to where he stood waiting for her in front of the Impala.

" _Slow down_ ," he warned. "Fucking hell, the sidewalk's wet. Elena—" But he couldn't help but open his arms to her when she clung onto his leather jacket.

"Shut the fuck up," she told him, and buried her face into the crook of his neck, while he sighed and let himself appreciate the smell of her hair as strands tickled his nose.

"You're too stubborn to do anything other than what you set your idiot mind on, but I know you," she said, and shook her head. "You won't do it."

He remained quiet, silently disagreeing but letting her say what she needed to say.

"For me, try one more time to find another way," she said, a raw plea in her voice, "Just one more time."

It made him smile, if only barely.

"…Okay." He kissed her again, and burnt it to memory. After everything, if he was still able to remember something, he hoped it would be this.

A few miles of pavement later, Dean was sure he left a piece of himself on the front porch of that house. A big piece. And if things went how he planned, he'd probably never get it back.

* * *

Another no-name motel with a tall glass of Jack and a cardboard box of his last possessions: to be shipped to one Robert Singer in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Dean poured another glass to his humanity, but he never got a chance to drink it.

"Sending someone a candy gram?"

He almost sighed. Really, he shouldn't be surprised.

"How did you find me?" he asked.

Sam shrugged.

"Your gunna kill yourself, right?" He slid his hands into his pockets. "It's not too hard to spot the stops on the farewell tour. How's Lena holding up?"

"I'm not going to kill myself."

"No? So, Michael's _not_ about to make you his muppet?" Sam then shook his head incredulously. "How could you do that to her?"

Dean's lips pursed in irritation.

"That's not fair, Sam—"

"You wanna know what's unfair, Dean?" Sam's voice rose with anger. "Elena called me, _crying_ into the phone and _begging_ me to stop you."

An understatement. Sam had never heard her voice as distressed.

" _I let him go, Sam…I just…let him go. How could I do that?"_

" _It's not your fault, Len—"_

" _ **I shouldn't have let him leave!**_ _"_

" _I'm going to find him, don't worry. Just stay there, okay?"_

To say Sam was silently simmering was also an understatement.

"Sam—"

"She's _five months_ pregnant, Dean. You ever think what that kind of stress would _do?_ " Sam shouted.

Dean closed his eyes and let out a breath through his nose. Partly because knowing how upset she was and that part of what his brother said was probably true pained him, and partly to calm himself down before he punched Sam in the nose for throwing that in his face.

"When did she call?" he asked instead.

"Just after you left her house."

"What did you tell her?"

"That I'd stop you from doing something stupid," said Sam. "What the hell, man? This is how it ends? You just…walk out?"

Dean picked up his glass and poured a little more whiskey.

"Yeah, I guess."

"How could you _do_ that?"

"How could _I?_ " Dean asked, some anger finally burning under the surface. "All you've _ever_ done is run away."

"And I was _wrong_ , every single time I did," said Sam. "Just…please, not now. Bobby's working on something."

"Oh really?" Dean knew for a fact Bobby wasn't even at his house yesterday. "What?"

Sam's gaze travelled to the cardboard box, and then to the floor.

"You've got nothin' and you know it."

Sam shook his head.

"You know I have to stop you."

Dean set down his glass.

"Yeah, well. You can try," he said. "Just remember you're not all hopped up on demon blood this time."

"Yeah, I know," Sam sighed. "But I brought help."

Dean's eyes widened as he heard something indistinct behind him. He turned and saw an angry Castiel with two fingers outstretched towards him, then they were all in Bobby's living room.

* * *

The old hunter was back, courtesy of Elena's call, and they sat in his study with several books laid open.

"Yeah, this is good, really. Eight months of turned pages and screwed pooches but _tonight_ , tonight's when the magic happens," said Dean. Cas and Elena glared at him behind his back, while Sam kept his attention on the book in front of him.

"You ain't helpin'," Bobby said flatly.

"Oh, well let me get out of your hair then," Dean offered. Bobby looked up at him incredulously.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Reality happened. Nuclear is all we have left," Dean reasoned. "Michael can ice the Devil, _and_ save a boat-load of people!"

"But not all of 'em! We've gotta think of somethin' else."

"Yeah, well that's easy for you to say. But if Lucifer burns this mother down and I coulda done something about it?" Dean slapped his palm none too gently on a nearby shelf he was leaning on. "That's on me."

"You can't give up, son," said Bobby, to which Dean scoffed, and met his gaze.

"You're not my father," he said, despite the shocked looks the others gave him. "And you ain't in my shoes."

It was like the air was sucked out of the room, then forcefully pushed back in to fast, leaving all tensely quiet. Until Bobby nodded and opened a drawer in his desk, pulled out a revolver and a single bullet.

"What's that?" Dean couldn't help but ask.

"This is the round I mean to put in my skull." He set it down on the desk. "Every morning I look at it, I think, 'maybe today's the day I flip the lights out.' But I don't do it. I never do it. You know why?"

Dean stared at him blankly, though the guilt crawled up his stomach.

" _ **Because I promised you!**_ " he shouted. It made Elena flinch.

The silence that followed was thick with tension, until Castiel winced and gripped his head.

"You all right?" Sam asked.

"No," the angel replied, his gaze vacant.

"What's wrong?"

"Something is happening."

"Where?" Dean asked, growing slightly impatient. In a flurry of loose papers and a gust of wind, Castiel was gone.

He came back five minutes later with Adam Milligan.

Angels were behind his resurrection. Why, Cas didn't know. But once revived, Adam knew exactly who his brothers were, because Zachariah "warned him."

"So," Dean said, once Adam was cleaned up from the head-to-toe grime he'd arrived in, "Why don't you just tell us everything. Start from the beginning."

"Well, I was dead, and in Heaven," Adam started. His leg bounced against the mattress he was sitting on as his glass of whiskey sat on his knee. "Except it kind of looked like my prom. I was making out with this girl, her name was Kristen McGee."

"Sounds like Heaven," Dean remarked, raising his brows. "Did you get to third base?"

Sam cleared his throat, and both he and Elena sent him similar looks. Dean blinked innocently.

"Just uh, keep going," Sam said.

"Well, these angels pop out of nowhere and tell me that I'm chosen," said Adam.

"For what?"

"To save the world."

That made Dean pause.

"How are you gunna do that?" he asked.

"Well, me and some archangel are gunna kill the Devil."

"What archangel?"

"Michael. I'm his sword, or vessel or something, I don't know."

Dean had to laugh a little.

"Well that's insane."

"Not necessarily," Castiel remarked. Dean turned around in his chair to look back at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe they're moving on from you, Dean."

"That doesn't make sense."

"He is of John Winchester's bloodline. Sam's brother. It's not perfect but it's possible."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Dean muttered.

"Why would they do this?" said Sam.

"Maybe they're desperate," said Cas, rather bluntly. "Maybe they wrongly assumed Dean would be brave enough to withstand them."

"All right, you know what? Blow me, Cas," Dean snapped, making the angel frown and Elena roll her eyes.

"No way," said Sam. "After everything that's happened? All that crap about destiny and suddenly the angels have a plan B? Does that smell right to _anybody?_ "

"Listen, this has been a really moving family reunion," said Adam, who began to stand. "But uh, I've got a thing, so…"

"Whoa, whoa, no," said Sam. "Sit down. Just listen, okay? Please."

Seeing that he was outnumbered and didn't have much of a choice, Adam let out a long breath and sat back down, muttering, "I can't believe this."

"Adam, the angels are _lying_ to you, okay, they're full of _shit_."

"Yeah, I don't think so," Adam scoffed.

"Really, why not?"

"Because they're angels."

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Did they tell you they were gunna roast half the planet?" he asked.

"They said the fight might get pretty hairy, but it's the Devil, right?" said Adam. "So we gotta stop him."

"Yeah, but there's another way."

Dean shot his brother an exasperated look.

"Great," Adam replied. "What is it?"

"We're working on the power of love," Dean grinned. Elena tenuous hold on her temper snapped, and she slapped his arm with an audible _smack_.

" _Ow_ , Jesus—"

" _Shut._ _ **Up.**_ "

Dean looked over at her in annoyance, leaning away in his chair, but his bravado dimmed at seeing the angry tears unshed in her eyes as she glared at him. She looked away before he had the chance to say anything. Not that he could have said anything.

"Look, Adam," Sam began, attempting to get back on track and move past the sudden tension. "You don't know me from a hole in the wall, I know, but I'm begging you. Please, just _trust me_. Give me some time."

Adam stared back at Sam.

"Give me one good reason."

"…Because we're blood."

"You've got no right to say that to me."

"You're still John's boy," Bobby pointed out.

"No, John Winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year," said Adam. "I don't have a dad. We may be blood, but I don't have a family. My _mom_ is my family, and if I do my job, I get to see her again. So no offense, but _she's_ the one I give a rat's ass about, not you."

None of them could say anything against that.

"Fair enough," said Sam. "But if you have one good memory of Dad, just one, then you'll give us a little more time… _please._ "


	9. What It Takes II

**AN: Chapter title by Aerosmith.**

 _ **What It Takes**_

" _Tell me what it takes to let you go._ _  
_ _Tell me how the pain's supposed to go._ _  
_ _And tell me how it is that you can sleep  
In the night without thinkin'_ _  
_ _Without thinkin' you lost ev'rything  
That was good in your life to the toss of the dice_ _,"_

— _Aerosmith, "What It Takes"_

 _IX: What It Takes, Part II_

"Do you…want to talk to him?"

"No."

"…Are you sure?"

Elena looked up from the book in her lap to Sam, her expression impassive. They had locked Dean in the panic room to make sure of one less flight risk.

"It wouldn't help anything," she said, and went back to reading. Sam wasn't so sure.

"Lena—"

" _ **Sam**_."

After a moment, he sighed and got up from the table and made his way downstairs. She knew he had his own questions for his brother anyway. But when he came back, he looked even worse.

So while the humans slept, Castiel stayed to help watch Adam; until a sound from the basement—of something crashing onto the ground—elicited his curiosity. It was two hours later when Sam found his brother gone and an angel warding symbol painted on the wall, in blood. He left Bobby and Elena to watch Adam while he looked for Dean, but after another hour, it was obvious he'd lost his brother's trail. The icing on the fucking cake was Adam getting the slip on Bobby too.

"What do you mean, he's _gone?_ "

"Should I say it in Spanish?" Bobby snarked. Sam grit his teeth.

"He's gone _how?_ " He ran his hands through his hair in agitation. " _What the hell_ , Bobby?"

"Don't you take that tone with _me_ , boy."

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes and cast a helpless gaze to Elena.

"I'm sorry, Sam," she said, both sincerity and alarm worrying her lower lip. "He was here, and then he was gone."

"It's like he vanished into thin air," said Bobby.

"That's because the angels took him," said Castiel, who appeared behind them with an unconscious and bloody Dean in tow. Elena gasped.

"What the hell happened to him?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Me," the angel replied blandly. Elena's eyes widened as he all but tossed Dean onto the narrow cot beside Bobby's desk. She couldn't help but draw near to him and sit on the edge of the mattress. His face was bloody and bruised, and she was sure the rest of his body wasn't much better. Her hand shakily brushed back his hair and caught sight of a purple bruise forming near his hairline.

"What the hell did you _do?_ " she asked, just shy of being shrill.

"He's fine," Cas dismissed. Elena glared at him.

"You call that fine?"

"He resisted."

"So you beat him within an inch of his life?" she snapped.

"My mistake."

"What do you mean the _angels_ took Adam?" Bobby asked more pointedly, breaking the tense silence that developed between the two. "You branded his ribs didn't you?"

"Yes," said Castiel. "Adam must've tipped them."

"How?"

"I don't know," the angel admitted. "Maybe in a dream."

Sam shook his head.

"Where would they have taken him?"

* * *

Castiel carried Dean into the panic room and onto the empty cot against the far wall. Sam sat at the desk there and waited for his brother to wake up. Meanwhile, Elena wet a small towel and wiped the blood from the small cuts on his face and arms.

Dean woke to her touch, cool and gentle on his neck and face. She didn't smile, but he grabbed her hand anyway—with his that wasn't handcuffed to the cot's frame—and held it in his lap after he sat up.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked him.

"Word of the wise," he replied. "Don't piss off the nerd angels."

Sam didn't smile either.

"So, how's it goin'?" Dean asked. Sam explained what happened with Adam: that he was taken to the same room Dean was taken too way back when. The place was crawling with angels.

"All right," said Dean. "What are you going to do?"

"For starters, I'm taking you with."

"Excuse me?"

Sam got up and unlocked Dean's cuffed hand.

"There are too many of 'em, and I can't do it alone. You're pretty much the only game in town."

"Isn't that a bad idea?" Dean asked skeptically.

"Cas, Bobby, and Elena think so," Sam conceded. "I'm not so sure."

Dean glanced over at Elena, though she averted her gaze.

"Well, they're right, you know," he said. "'Cause either it's a trap to get me there and make me say yes, or it's not a trap and I'm going to say yes anyway."

Elena jerked her hand out of his and stood, walking away in one fluid motion.

"And I will," he continued though he faltered a bit. "I'll do it, so fair warning."

"No you won't," Sam shook his head minutely. "When push shoves, you'll make the right call."

"You know, if the tables were turned I'd let you rot in here," said Dean. "Hell, I _have_ let you rot in here."

Sam shrugged, somewhat sighing as he said, "Yeah well, I guess I'm not that smart."

"I don't get it, Sam. Why are you doing this?"

Elena could ask the same thing as she paused by the door, but she stayed quiet.

"Because," said Sam. "You're still my big brother."

* * *

She had a shit ton of regrets.

Besides the obvious ones that included her brother and her father, Elena regretted not being with her mother more. She wished she wouldn't have taken for granted the time they had, even when Lorelei got sick. She should've tried harder to convince her father to come home more often, _talk_ to her about her mom every once in a while. Maybe he would've trusted her enough to call her when his witch hunt started to go south.

Elena regretted not keeping in touch with her uncle, or Sam and Dean for that matter, throughout the years. She wished she would have stuck with Sam after his brother died, not given up so easily out of heartache. Maybe this whole thing wouldn't have happened.

Right now though, she regretted pushing Dean away from her when he tried to say goodbye a second time. It had hurt too much to let him hold her, or even touch her. Selfish.

But now it was so much worse. There had been that one chance. Just one, to say…anything.

She hadn't.

He might have, if she would've let him.

Again, _selfish_. And stupid.

She sat on Bobby's couch while the old man tried to catch a meager few hours of sleep, too tired to read or concentrate on a screen but too awake to truly rest. Not until the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine cut in the dirt driveway, her headlights illuminating the hallway for a fleeting moment.

Elena was on her feet before she realized it, but she stopped herself once she reached the hall, and flicked the lights on. The front door opened, and seeing the two of them, battered but alive, allowed her to breathe. And she did deeply. It came out shaking with relief that brought feeling all the way down to her toes and fingertips.

Dean came to her slowly, out of caution rather than out of reluctance. But when his arms enveloped her she let herself be drawn into him, breathing him in even if it ended in some tears.

"I'm sorry," he said in her ear. Elena shuddered at his voice, but shook her head.

"I didn't trust you," she managed, guilt clawing its way up and settling a heavy weight in her chest. He chuckled a bit and it ran through her, alleviating the pressure.

"I don't blame you."

They shared her old room that night, but neither could sleep for the near half hour they laid in the dark.

Dean opened his eyes after a while. They took in her familiar frame, small under the covers with her back turned to him. She'd forgotten to put her hair up, and he coiled some of it between his fingers without pulling.

He'd always known that he would be more than willing to give himself up as a vessel if it meant saving Sam. He would do hell all over again for his brother.

But Dean realized after coming back—literally from Heaven—and finding Elena in that hotel room, battered and bruised for him, that he would also accept a fate worse than death if it meant she would be safe.

That alone scared him, but not as much as other things.

Before Dean realized what he was doing, his arms were around her under the blankets and he pressed his mouth against her smooth shoulder. He felt her fingers curl over his own and heard her sigh.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"For what?"

"Didn't mean to wake you up."

"You didn't," Elena assured him, and turned over in his arms. She slid her arms around his waist and rested against his chest.

"Can't sleep?" he asked. She shook her head.

It had been a trying few days for everyone, but it was only then that he really thought about how stressed out she must have been, stuck here waiting for him and Sam.

 _She had no reason to think I'd come back alive_ , he realized. _She really thought I was gunna off myself._

"I'm sorry."

"It's 3 am," she muttered into his shirt. "What are you sorry about now?"

He smiled, despite himself.

"…Nothin'."

She sighed again and pulled away, propping herself up on an elbow.

"All right, what?"

"What?"

"Don't even try," she said. "You've got that face, like you accidentally kicked a puppy."

He gave her an exasperated look.

Elena smiled knowingly.

"Yeah, okay," she said, and went back to burrowing close to him. Though her belly bump prevented her from getting as close as she wanted to, she was able to reach under his shirt and tease his sensitive sides with playful fingers.

Dean flinched and laughed involuntarily.

"Hey," he warned. "Don't start a somethin' you can't finish."

She giggled and followed him when he tried to roll away. Eventually she caught him around the neck. He let her pull him back onto the bed that creaked under their weight, and he covered the hands clasped against his chest with one of his.

"You don't have to keep apologizing to me," Elena said softly. It was a while before Dean answered, instead sighing and letting his head rest in the crook of her neck.

"Don't I?" he finally asked.

"It wasn't because I didn't understand why you were gunna do it," she said. "It was because I did."

He didn't know what to say. Lucky for him, he didn't have to.

"I…" she started, but stopped. She wasn't sure she could say it, if she even should. But she'd seen him die enough times to know the truth; Dean saying yes to Michael would have killed her, especially knowing he was doing it for her as well as Sam and Bobby.

"I never thought anyone would give that much of a damn." Elena shook her head, fighting the tears in the corners of her eyes. "Not for me…so thank you."

Dean frowned and turned over so he could see her. He couldn't help but think, for all the ways they were so different, in some things they were too alike.

"You can't thank me for that," he said. He knew by the look on her face that she didn't understand.

"Why?" she asked.

Dean shook his head, letting out a deep breath of disbelief in a huff. Then again, the closest he'd come to the reality of what he felt—putting it into words at least—was all the shit he's dropped on her porch the day he thought he was going to die. And what surprised him the most was that he meant all of it.

"Wow."

"What?" she asked, and he could tell she was getting irritated. It made him smile a little, though he hadn't meant to be patronizing. It had been more of a reflection of his own thoughts than a reply. Instead of answering her, he smothered whatever smartass remark she was about to make by closing the remaining space between them and kissing her.

It caught her off guard long enough for his arms to slide around her and bring her closer. Soon enough, her hands were in his hair and her eyes were closed. His mouth drifted from her lips to her neck, at the sensitive spot just under her ear and his hands began to wander.

She never thought she would be here, with a man that hadn't thought he could love. In reality, he was the only one to ever show her what it was supposed to be like.

"I just…I'm tired of being useless every time," she murmured. Dean just managed to catch it, causing him to frown.

"Every time what?"

She shook her head, burrowing into his chest.

"Uh-uh, you're not gettin' outta this one," he said, and grabbed her shoulder gently. "Every time what?"

Her lips were trembling, even as she pressed them together. She wished she hadn't said anything.

"Every time I can't get to you, and…and something happens," she said, her voice almost inaudible, "I'm more alone."

And after the words came out she wished she hadn't gone there. Tears were pricking behind her eyes again, and Dean had already gone still.

She closed her eyes when he started to pull away.

"Even when I can—"

"Stop," he said. She felt his calloused hand on her cheek, making her open her eyes. His were heavy with regret.

 _I sound fucking pathetic_ , Elena thought. _Like he needs me to save him. Like I can't live without—_

"I haven't been fair," said Dean. "I know that…I know I keep hurting you."

Elena shut her eyes again, for once not wanting to see that depth of emotion in his eyes. Because it hurt, though it was all she ever wanted to see.

His hand nestled in her hair, and he cradled the back of her head, wondering if he would ever be worthy of her. With his track record, probably not.

When she opened her eyes, they were a glassy slate gray.

"I thought I could let you go," he said, "but…"

She breathed a sigh, held tightly onto the arm resting on her shoulder with his hand in her hair.

"Good," she said, smiling through tears, "'cause I don't want you to."

* * *

It was easier to say goodbye for the third time. The brothers were gone for a few days and called with the breakthrough they'd been looking for. They couldn't kill Lucifer, not without Gabriel's help. Lucifer had managed to kill his brother, but not before he left the Winchesters with a little tidbit of advice: they could stop Lucifer by tricking him back into the cage he escaped from down in the Pit. The cage could only be opened with the key, which consisted of the four rings of the Horsemen.

On the bright side, they already had two of them—War and Famine's. On the other hand, they not only had to find Pestilence and Death, but somehow get their rings and find a way to shove the Devil's ass back into the cage.

But in another week, Sam was sure Pestilence touched down to Earth, with the way swine flu outbreaks started all over the country with no explanation. While it could've been worse with the Croatoan virus up his sleeve, it was still ominous.

That night, Bobby took a call at about one in the morning. It was Sam with the weirdest news Bobby had gotten in a while, about a demon named Crowley. The same demon that gave them the Colt to go up against Lucifer with, though he claimed he hadn't known it wouldn't work on the archangel. Now Dean was going with him alone on a possible suicide mission to get Pestilence's ring, but that wasn't what worried Bobby.

What worried him was when Sam started talking _real_ crazy. Like saying yes to Lucifer, crazy, just long enough to push him into the cage.

He swore if the Apocalypse didn't kill him, these idgjit kids and their dumbass ideas would.

* * *

The next afternoon he got a visit from Hell's Most Wanted while his niece was getting groceries…but by the time she got back, he knew where Death was. Until they got Pestilence's ring, he wouldn't say, but by the time Sam and Dean got to his house to regroup, Sam had told his brother about his fool plan, to which the rest of them were in consensus against.

Before they left again, Dean got a call from Castiel, who was very much alive, though in a hospital and drained of all his power. Nearly human. But they left for the coordinates Crowley got out of Brady, the demon responsible for Jessica Moore's murder and coincidentally, Pestilence's subordinate and CEO of NIVEUS Pharmaceuticals. The brothers, Castiel in tow, were back the next day with the ring, though they didn't look too triumphant.

"Last thing Pestilence said was, 'It's too late,'" said Sam.

"He get specific?" Bobby asked. The other man shook his head.

"We're just a little freaked out that he might've left a bomb somewhere," said Dean. "So please tell us you have actual good news."

"…Chicago's about to be wiped off the map," Bobby said eventually. "Storm of the millennium. Sets off a daisy chain of natural disasters and three million people are gunna die."

"I don't understand your definition of good news," said Cas, who leaned against a shelf with his head propped against a fist.

"Well," Bobby said slowly. "Death, the Horseman. He's gunna be there, and if we can stop him before he kick-starts the storm, get his ring back…"

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "You make it sound _so easy_."

"I'm just tryin' to put a spin on it."

"Bobby, how'd you put all this together anyway?" Sam asked.

"I had…you know…help."

Elena gave her uncle a side glance.

"What kind of help?" she asked, noticing the evasiveness of his tone and the shift in his gaze. A cork hit the table behind them, and Crowley was there with a bottle of bourbon, pouring a glass for himself.

"Don't be so modest," he said. "I barely did anything. Hello, boys."

His eyes fell on Elena, and he smiled, bending slightly at the waist.

"Pleasure to meet you, darling."

She glared at him.

"Who the hell are you?"

Crowley looked over at Dean, who was clearly not amused.

"Charming girl," he said wryly, then shifted his attention to Bobby. "There's no shame in it. Tell them."

"Bobby?" Sam asked expectantly. "Tell us _what?_ "

"…The world's gunna end," said Bobby. "Seems stupid to get all precious over one little…soul."

" _You sold your soul?_ " Dean exclaimed. Castiel shook his head.

"More like pawned it, I fully intend to give it back," said the demon.

"Then _**give it back**_ ," Dean demanded.

"I will."

" _Now!_ "

"Did you kiss him?" Sam asked curiously.

"Sam," Dean warned.

"Just wondering."

They all turned to look at him.

Bobby stared back, hesitating.

" _No!_ " he exclaimed, until Crowley cleared his throat, holding up his cell phone. On the screen was a very incriminating picture.

" _Why_ did you take a picture?" Bobby asked in defeat.

"Why did you have to use tongue?" the demon retorted. The brothers and Elena turned to Bobby with wide eyes.

Finally, Dean shook his head and stood.

"All right, I've had enough of this. You give him his soul back _now_ ," he ordered. Crowley stood his ground.

"I'm sorry, I can't."

" _Can't_ or _won't?_ "

"…Fine. _Won't_ , all right? It's insurance."

"What are you talking about?"

"You kill demons. Gigantor over there has a temper issue about it. But you won't kill me, as long as I have that soul in my deposit box."

"You son of a bitch," Bobby growled.

"I'll return it," Crowley assured. "After all this is over, and I can walk away safely. Do we all understand each other?"

* * *

"Good luck stopping the zombie apocalypse," said Dean. Apparently, Brady's project was a vaccine for the outbreaks of swine flu, nearly guaranteed to be the Croatoan virus to be spread throughout the country. So Sam, Cas and Bobby loaded the van with all the equipment they would need to stop it.

"Good luck killing Death," Sam replied. They looked at one another for a moment.

"Remember when we used to hunt…wendigoes?" he asked.

"I really don't," Dean replied sourly. Sam pulled the demon-killing knife from his belt.

"Here," he said, and offered it to his brother. "You might need this."

"Keep it," said Crowley, pulling out a scythe for all of them to see before handing it over to Dean. "Death's own. Kills, well, demons, angels, and reapers, and rumor has it, the very Thing itself."

"How did you get that?" Castiel asked, casting suspicious eyes on the demon.

"Hello? King of the Crossroads?" he said. "So, shall we? Oh, Bobby. You just going to sit there?"

"No, I'm gunna river dance," the old man snapped.

"I suppose, if you want to impress the ladies." At the hunters' confused looks, Crowley sighed. "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. You really wasted that crossroads deal. In fact, you get more if you phrase it properly. So, I took the liberty of adding a teeny little sub – a clause on your behalf."

At their disbelieving expressions, he said, "What can I say? I'm an altruist. Like I said…just gunna sit there?"

Slowly, Bobby got out of the wheelchair.

The rest of them watched him stand, Elena with tears in her eyes.

"Son of a bitch," Bobby breathed.

"Entirely worth your soul," said Crowley. "I'm a hell of a guy."

"…Thanks."

"Great," said the demon. "Can we go?"

He turned toward the Impala and left the humans (and one…sort of angel) stunned. Elena hugged Bobby, and finally he was able to hug back properly. He gave her the house key, though he made her promise not to leave short of an Apocalyptic crisis, which Sam and Dean backed wholeheartedly. She rolled her eyes, but agreed and kissed Dean goodbye. She then hugged Sam, and even caught Cas off guard by sending him off the same way.

* * *

She was surprised when all of them were back, two days later. The entire supply of the vaccine was disposed of, and Death gave his ring to Dean with the condition that he stop Lucifer, who was controlling the Horseman with a spell. Stop him by letting Sam say yes to Lucifer and jump into the Pit.

Elena was even more surprised by Bobby, who encouraged Dean to let him, and Dean, who was going to let him.

She hadn't wanted to eavesdrop, really. She'd just wanted to bring out more beers for them. But the window in the kitchen was open to let in the cool air and she stopped at the backdoor.

"You're gunna let me say yes?" Sam asked, his tone disbelieving.

"No, that's the thing," said Dean. Sam gave him a confused look, but his brother continued.

"It's not on me to let you do anything. You're a grown… _overgrown_ , man," he said. "If this is what you want, I'll back your play."

Sam heaved a breath through his nose.

"That's the last thing I thought you'd say."

"Might be," he joked cynically. "I'm not gunna lie to you, though. It goes against every fiber I've got. Truth is…watching out for you, it's kind of been my job, you know? More than that, it's kinda who I am. But you're not a kid anymore, Sam. I can't keep treatin' you like one."

Dean shook his head, his gaze falling to the ground.

"Maybe I gotta grow up too," he said, looking back to Sam. "I don't know if we've got a snowball's chance, but…I do know if anybody can do it, it's you."

Sam nodded after a moment.

"Thank you."

"If this is what you want…is this really what you want?"

"I let him out," Sam shrugged. "I gotta put him back in."

"Okay," Dean nodded. "That's it then."

Elena walked away long before the end of their conversation, frustrated and disbelieving. She all but threw the beers back in the fridge and paced the linoleum floors. It didn't help.

After a few minutes of indecision, she grabbed the beers again, pushed the back door open and headed outside. The brothers looked up from loading clips into their guns just enough to nod to her in greeting, but didn't stop. She shoved the drinks into the cooler by Sam's foot and paused in front of him.

"You can't be serious," she deadpanned.

"It's the only way," Sam said, slightly surprised by her anger, though he didn't pause from his task. He unknowingly echoed his brother's words to her only a couple of weeks ago.

Elena stared blankly at him for a while, then at Dean organizing the Impala's trunk in silence. She gritted her teeth, and it was all she could do to keep her clenched fists at her sides.

"Are you fucking _**kidding**_ me?" she exclaimed, and finally earned his shocked attention. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair and held up a finger when he opened his mouth.

"Do you have _any idea_ how _annoying_ that is?" she said, taking slow steps toward him. "The two of you are the fucking same, I swear to God. One of you always feels the need to off themselves, damn the consequences, because it's the ' _only way_.'"

Sam set down his gun into his duffel, casting sad eyes on her.

"Lena," he started, but she raised a hand, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Don't even." She felt the burn behind her eyes that began to make her vision blur. "I wasn't okay with this two weeks ago, and I'm not okay with it now."

"I know," Sam said. He set down his bag and drew closer to her, meeting her glassy gaze earnestly. "But if I don't do this…a lot of people are gunna get hurt, Lena. You know that."

Her lips trembled, but she looked away from him, crossing her arms. She only looked up at him when his hands, even larger than Dean's, came to rest gently on her shoulders.

"You're gunna be safe," he said. "I promise."

Elena closed her eyes briefly, the tears finally falling. She shook her head. It was getting embarrassing how much time she'd spent crying recently, but after what happened in the motel room, after Roy and Walt…she stopped caring about a future that didn't have all of her family in it.

"If you go in there, there's a big chance you're not coming out."

Her voice broke, and Sam's grip tightened as his heart clenched. He let his hands drop from her shoulders. And then he hugged her close, as a brother would. Feeling wetness stain his shirt, he breathed a sigh, resting his chin on the top of her head. Dean came from behind the Impala and hesitated for a second, but nodded at him once before heading inside to grab the rest of their stuff. Sam acknowledged with his eyes.

Then he bowed his head near her ear.

"Promise me something," he said. His voice was just above a whisper.

"What?" she asked flatly.

"Take care of each other," said Sam, his own eyes burning. He couldn't promise he and Dean would make it. But if he managed, at the very least, to make it possible for his brother to come home to her, and to Sam's future niece, then it was worth it.

Elena bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. It didn't do much good. He smiled to himself and slowly started to pull away, but she grabbed onto his jacket and stared up straight into his eyes.

"You're strong enough," said Elena. "You are…I believe in you, Sammy."

 _The three of you are going to come home, and you're going to be okay_ , she thought. _You always pull it off somehow._

He smiled a little more, and it reached his eyes this time. She returned it as much as she could while her grip on his jacket became painful.

"Kick his fucking ass."

* * *

Elena didn't hear anything for three days.

The first night after they left, she distracted herself by watching Bobby's old black and white movies until she finally fell asleep at dawn.

She spent the next day washing all the laundry in the house, every dish, picking up every scrap of paper left in research, putting every book back in its place.

She made the mistake of texting Dean.

 **Are you okay?**

Elena folded laundry until six in the morning when he didn't answer. She didn't sleep.

The next day she was so damn bored and frustrated she washed clothes that were already clean and made sandwiches she couldn't eat because she felt like throwing up.

The rumbling of a 67 Chevy Impala's engine stopped in front of Singer Auto in late afternoon of that day. Bobby opened the door and for a minute she thought the absolute worst, but before she could say anything he told her Dean was waiting in the car for her.

"Where's Sam?" she asked weakly. Bobby's eyes were dull with grief. Her lips trembled and she covered her face with her hands. His cold hand squeezed her shoulder tightly, then finally pulled her towards him and she hung on even though he smelled like dirt and blood and sweat and a bit like death.

"Dean can't stay here," Bobby muttered after her sobs subsided enough. "It'll remind him too much."

She shut her eyes tightly against hot tears, but it was a fruitless effort.

"You need to go with him."

Elena bit her lip. She was afraid to see him.

"I…I can't do this alone," she confessed. "What he's feeling…"

She could imagine something close.

"You'll do it," Bobby said. She knew what he really meant was, _you'll get through it._ She didn't think so. "He'll let you in…eventually."

The tears really burned now, almost white hot, in remembrance of a similar promise.

" _Take care of each other."_

So how could Elena do anything else but wipe her face and get her shit together.

She packed her duffel bag and found Dean sitting in the driver's seat of his Baby. She felt wrong sitting shotgun.

They didn't talk, or even listen to music, for five hours of interstate, save for the call she made to turn the electricity back on in her house.

The car was silent upon entering Hill City, and stayed that way until pulling into the driveway of a small, white house. Somehow they ambled their way under the arch built over a decade ago and up the stone path, with stones that were separated by weeds.

Elena's shaking hand found her key and unlocked the door, turning on the light as she went.

"I'll have to go to the store, there's no food here." She stepped into the house while checking the time on her phone. "It's still open. I could be quick…"

Elena trailed, seeing Dean stopped at the porch, a step before the doorway. Over his shoulder was his duffel, his white-knuckled grip on the strap. His eyes were empty.

It broke her heart.

Slowly she went to him, only stopping once she was close enough to touch. And she did, for the first time calling his name softly and lightly touching his cheek. A little bit of life returned to his eyes as they eventually met hers. She could have asked a hundred different obvious questions, so many she wanted to know about what happened but at the same time didn't.

"Want me to order some Chinese?"

Groceries could wait until tomorrow.

His jaw clenched, but his lips twitched at something. Maybe an attempt at a smile. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded. She smiled softly and, after a moment of hesitation, pulled the duffel strap down his arm, making the bag slide to the floor. Once she wrapped her arms around him he had no choice.

Dean pulled her to him tightly, burying his face into her neck and not realizing he was shaking until she was shushing him gently and running her fingers through his hair, even as her own tears fell.

"Dean…it's okay."

It wasn't.

"It will be," she told him.

It wouldn't be.

Because his brother was dead.


	10. After the Fall

**AN: Hey friends! So this is the last chapter of What It Takes, but I plan on writing a collection of one-shots that will continue right where this story left off, for those who want to continue reading my take on these characters. Thanks to everyone who stuck by this story from Do You Recall until the end.**

 **The chapter title is by Journey.**

* * *

 _ **What It Takes**_

 _X: After the Fall_

It got worse.

Few people who remembered Elena Hayes actually took notice of her return to Hill City. It was a small town that for the most part kept to itself. Quiet but busy, there wasn't much that stirred the pot.

But those who remembered her quickly noticed the obvious change in her appearance, as well as the man who occasionally accompanied her around town (though those times were few). Her neighbors were quiet people; Frank and Lisette, an elderly couple, still lived nearly a quarter a mile down the road, putting Elena's house at the edge of town and quite literally on the outskirts. There was a younger married couple that moved into a house the same distance beside, but she hadn't met them.

In a way, maybe that was better.

* * *

The first thing Elena did was clean the house, despite the chemicals that almost made her sick. Dean didn't even reprimand her though, which both surprised and didn't surprise her. In the week following their arrival, he slept. _Really_ slept, longer than she thought he was capable of. But she realized it was his body undergoing a forced shut down from what it endured, physically and emotionally.

When he was awake, and continued to be in the weeks following, he drank more than he ate. She couldn't bring herself to say anything. Not then, and not when he started burying himself in what used to be her father's office until the early hours of the morning, reading ancient books from the trunk of the Impala under lamplight.

That was another thing, the Impala.

She traded with the Camaro for the garage, and Dean covered her with a tarp, only taking what he needed from the trunk.

It wasn't until after the first month of bills rolled in that Elena realized the life insurance from both her parents wasn't going to cover the expenses forever. Not after everything this baby was going to need, and continue to need once she was born. They still hadn't even started.

But she was loath to bring finance up to Dean. She didn't want to pressure him to get a job and integrate with society so soon. As it was now, he was getting used to just doing chores around the house, doing some laundry and mowing the lawn. Val came by occasionally, usually with Matt. Elena explained, not without difficulty, in briefest terms to Val what had happened for them to move back (without any of the supernatural or Apocalypse-related elements), more or less permanently as Matt and Dean kicked a soccer ball back and forth in the backyard.

"I'm sorry, I…can't even imagine," Val said, shaking her head minutely.

To think of that man that had seemed…decent. A gentle giant to be sure…they had only met once and he was gone. She hadn't even had one conversation solely with Sam Winchester, and she hoped the asshole that hit him driving drunk remembered his guilt for the rest of his life.

Val didn't really know Dean all that well either, but she could see the change in her friend's boyfriend. His overall demeanor was closed off, almost blank if it weren't for the empty smiles and polite inserts at all the appropriate times. Like he was going through the motions but nothing was going on behind his eyes.

Hints of the man she had met before came out in sparks, like when Elena brought him and Matt some fresh lemonade, and Dean thanked her softly when their hands brushed, their eyes meeting briefly with something unspoken passing between them. Or when, after Matt had been talking at him for an hour, said something that brought an unexpected smile to Dean's face. Small, Val observed, but genuine.

So he wasn't all right. Neither was Elena for that matter. The woman's hands shook occasionally, always fidgeting with something, and she was too pale. But for now, from what Val could see, it was enough that what was between her and Dean when they looked at each other wasn't just them going through the motions.

And it just wasn't Val's place to bring any of that up.

"Mom had a nervous breakdown," she said, visibly surprising Elena.

"What happened?" she asked.

"It came out at Matt's birthday last month that Dad had been sleeping with girlfriend number five before the divorce papers were even served. Mom ripped him a new asshole," Val took a long sip of lemonade, "And shoved cake down the hussy's dress."

Elena winced.

"Restraining order?" she asked.

"Restraining order." Val nodded affirmatively. "And an institution to fix whatever wires crossed upstairs."

"Jesus…I'm sorry," Elena said, shaking her head. Val shrugged dispassionately.

"Mattie's with me now," she said. "Mom's getting help…that's all that matters."

* * *

When Val left, the bit of life that had been breathed into the house was sucked out again, leaving the couple where they were before. They ate meals together, watched movies, slept beside each other, but talked minimally. Dean drank. Elena cleaned and worried.

She thought they were getting better when, after fabricated credentials came in the mail for a "Nathan Dean Whitman" from "Robert Singer," Dean got a job for a mechanic Elena's father had known well. Jim Murphy was an older man, climbing up in his late sixties, but was still plenty sharp and had a knack for what he did, as well as knowing who to hire. He gave Dean the job after finding out he was the owner of the '67 Impala he'd seen pass through town on the way to Jack Hayes' old place.

For a while, Dean _was_ better. He had something to put his all into, working with his hands and distracting himself from the research she knew he was doing when he thought she was asleep. Not that she had anything wrong with him trying to find a way to help Sam. Of course she didn't. In fact, she'd stayed up plenty of nights with her laptop and a couple of those books herself.

But she was seeing him start to go down the same path Sam had two years before.

She saw it in his eyes, dull and tired from the nightmares that wouldn't let either of them sleep. In the long days that dragged when he was gone, even more when he stayed out late. There was a bar maybe five minutes from the house, and it was five minutes plus another few hours he was willing to spend until he stumbled into the house, past where she laid on the couch waiting, and to their shared bed. But she also knew the very last thing he wanted to do was talk about anything remotely close to what happened at Stull Cemetery.

So on a Saturday night while alphabetizing the DVD rack, she improvised.

"I'll be back," Dean said to her, car keys in hand. He'd been driving her dad's truck ever since he put Baby in the garage. He hadn't even touched her Camaro.

"Dean," she stopped him before he could get to the door. He looked back at her. Elena looked down at the movie in her hands and found a short burst of inspiration.

"Want to watch _Tommy Boy_ with me?"

Maybe he saw the hope in her eyes, but when he blinked he seemed to falter slightly.

"Uh…sure. When I get back, okay?"

She inwardly deflated.

"Oh…okay." They both knew that by the time he got back, Dean wouldn't even remember they had this conversation.

She bit her lip and chanced glancing up at him. Surprisingly, he was still standing there, outwardly blank. Though the shift in his eyes told her he was considering his options.

Then he left.

* * *

Elena simmered for five hours, worried and frustrated at the same time. She always worried when he did this. Worked up as much as he could while drunk, he could make some very reckless and very stupid decisions, especially if he was thinking about Sam.

 _If,_ she thought humorlessly. Like there was an "if" about it. Not that she was doing much better than him.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the lock giggled in the front door for half a minute before it opened. Dean set the keys on the kitchen counter and sat heavily at the table, just staring at the empty chair in front of him. This was what she hated the most—when she realized he'd stopped pretending everything was okay, and she had no idea what the fuck to do.

But she went to him anyway. Her hand kneaded the knots between his neck and shoulder blades while the other used the table as support. He grunted when she found a particularly tight area.

"You need to stop," she told him quietly, finding her courage. "You're burning out."

He removed her hand from his neck and stood, moving to the sink to splash some water on his face. He let it drip down as his hands found either side of the sink.

"Dean," she pressed. Still, he stared down into an empty sink, where water swirled down the drain. Down the rabbit hole, snapped up into the Cage with his baby brother.

"Maybe I deserve it," he murmured, his words only slightly slurred.

Elena stared at his back and blinked away the burn of sad and frustrated tears.

"Dean," she pleaded, feeling more helpless now than she had two years ago. Sam wouldn't want this for him. "I can't watch you do this to yourself, not like…not like S—"

" _ **Don't**_ ," Dean snapped gruffly, slamming his palms on the edges of the sink before turning around. His green eyes were glassy and red with grief and anger. But then he stopped.

Dean only hadn't wanted to hear…that name out loud. But he hadn't wanted to scare her.

He saw her flinch, step back the slightest bit. For a fraction of a second he saw fear in her eyes, for the first time directly caused by _him_. Like he was some angry drunk.

 _Maybe I am_ , came from a deep corner of his mind, the part that was still coherent.

Shock rooted Dean in place. Until his feet were moving and he was grabbing the keys again, disgust with himself prompting him to head for the door. A hand grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and he stopped, surprised.

"Dean, stop," she said, worry and nerves making her voice shake, "You're drunk."

"I can drive."

He wanted to drive until that look on her face disappeared from his mind, along with the look on his brother's face as he said goodbye.

" _It's okay…it's okay, Dean…I've got him."_

"Stop it," she demanded through tears that fell when she blinked. Her firmness took him off guard again, even if her actions told the contrary. "Come on."

Despite himself, he let her lead him by the hand to the couch and he sat heavily.

She cradled his limp hand in hers, entwined their fingers and brought them to her lips. Tender touches that finally succeeded in drawing his eyes to her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her wet eyes caught his still red-rimmed ones.

"I'd never hurt you," he choked. She nodded.

"I know, honey."

It was the first time she'd called him that. They'd joked in the past about cheesy couples that ended every sentence with nauseating pet names. They had never needed to assure each other that they would never be one of those couples, the ones that needed to say "I love you" at the end of every conversation. Neither of them were capable of that.

But hearing her say that like it was nothing, like she'd always been saying it…

Well.

It had a weirdly calming effect.

They sat in silence for a couple minutes, rain pattering against the roof and windows in the background.

"I'm sorry," he said at last, because he didn't know what else he could say.

"It's okay."

"It's not."

She met his stare, and slowly nodded in agreement.

"I won't ask you to tell me…anything…not until you can."

He hesitated, then nodded. Really, he didn't think that day would ever come.

"But Dean…I miss him too."

And that was the damn honest truth, because it wasn't the same and none of this felt right. Being in this house, not washing three sets of laundry and making three cups of coffee and hearing his snores at night, whether in the next bed over or down the hall of a motel room or Bobby's house.

Dean's grip in her hands tightened as his jaw clenched.

"I…I can't do this without you," she confessed. It pierced what was left of his heart. But he shook his head.

"You don't need me."

Because that was all he was good for. People who needed him. A good soldier for his dad, a father to his brother, a hunter to take care of the monsters under the bed. Now he wasn't even that anymore, because he'd made a goddamn promise—the last one he'd made to Sam about an apple-pie life.

Elena's voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"I want you to stay."

Her trembling sigh was accompanied by more tears that slid down her face and neck. Dean watched her struggle for the words that wanted so desperately to escape.

"Not to change diapers or mow the lawn, just to be here…with me."

He laughed; a hollow sound that made both of them feel worse.

"…Right." His voice was just as empty. Elena stared at him hard, and when calling his name didn't get his attention, she grasped his chin and turned his face toward hers.

"Look at me," she implored. His brows furrowed a little, but his gaze remained averted. This time, she demanded.

"You _look_ at me, damn it."

At the edge in her voice, his eyes flicked to hers, caught every flicker of emotion on her face down to the tremble of her lower lip. She inhaled deeply through her nose, gathering herself.

"You…are the only one I _can't lie to_ ," she said, "when I lie to myself."

His mouth dropped open, the slightest bit.

"So when I say I want you here—so I can take care of you and you take care of me," her voice shook, but she resolved to finish, even if it drove him away. "It's because, I do. So if you _want_ to stay…then stay."

The weight of her words fell on him like an anvil, and suddenly it was hard to breathe.

Because no one had ever wanted him, just for him. Just to be there—not as their soldier or their savior or their surrogate father. He hated himself more just for thinking it.

He hated feeling lost. He hated that he couldn't just pull himself together and keep moving, that she was seeing him like this. And he couldn't voice what his gut was telling him.

But he hadn't needed to promise Sam to know, if he was going to stay somewhere…well maybe he wouldn't have chosen _here_ ; this house full of a family past that hurt Elena more than it did any good. But Dean was selfish enough that he'd only seriously considered going on alone for about five minutes.

To keep her safe, he would've run as far as he needed to. But his attempts in the past had never worked for long either.

"Do…do you even want to be here?" Elena asked, uncertainty making her frown, while her body leaned away from him subconsciously. His head hung, with his gaze locked on their hands.

"I don't deserve it," he choked out, his hold on her hands tightening reflexively. He felt her squeeze back, and his eyes widened when she rested her forehead against his.

"Yeah, you do, Dean," she said. He could tell it was through tears. "Just tell me the truth...do you want to stay?"

It took him a moment, but Dean eventually slid his hand out of hers and slipped his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap and as close as possible with the swell of her belly.

"Yeah," he whispered raggedly. "I wanna stay."

He felt her shudder and relax against him, and her hands fisted into the back of his shirt. He breathed her in, taking refuge in the crook of her neck and pressing his lips against the skin there as she wept against him.

 _It's not fair_ , his thoughts screamed, that they were here. Broken, after everything they'd sacrificed. That _he_ wasn't here, after all the shit he'd gone through for the sake of everyone else but himself. That Sam wasn't here after the war was over, getting a chance at _normal_.

 _Sammy._

Dean's hold on Elena tightened a little. Her hands began rubbing up and down his back, reminding him that she was here, even though she was hurting too.

He wouldn't recover. Not from this. But maybe, he could try.

For her, and for Sammy, he could try.

* * *

It got better.

Elena found her old baby clothes in the attic that her mom saved, and Val brought a hell of a lot more that she had never even worn (Val had a large family that had more than enough cash to burn when she was born). She also brought a crib, along with several other things that brought Elena to tears, overwhelmed by the generosity. Val just hugged her and smiled.

"It's my gift to the kid," she'd said. "Gotta go big or nothing at all."

Dean and Val spent an entire day redecorating Elena's old room, though they left the light purple color painted on the walls.

Dean met Sid Lawson, a contractor, after fixing the carburetor on the man's Chevy SUV. Liked to talk your ear off, but he was a good guy and tipped Dean well. As it turned out, Sid and his wife Nancy lived next door. Well, a quarter mile to their left, but they were neighbors. He invited Dean and Elena over for dinner and continued to once a week for the next couple of months.

Elena got bigger.

Dean drank less.

They both slept more, unless Annie decided to kick her father awake.

* * *

On January 23, Dean held Ann Marie Winchester in his arms and cried for the first time since quitting the Job, the day he thought his world ended. Five months later and it began again, and it was the best early birthday present he'd ever gotten.

He and Elena learned how to change diapers and heat up formula from the nurses and later Val, who had laughed at their attempts before helping them with surprising dexterity.

"Oh, don't look so shocked," she said, grinning. "I've literally been wiping Mattie's ass since he was six months old."

"I think he'd have something to say about that," Elena remarked, amused. Val winked.

"Good thing he's busy playing Nintendo in the living room then."

* * *

When five months became a year, Dean still wasn't completely okay. But he was getting as close to it as he could; he could smile and laugh through guilt, but never forgot to look for Sam. When those leads dried out, he took solace in taking care of his daughter, and in kissing his girlfriend that still somehow found the strength to prop him up on bad days.

And then one night after getting a burger with Sid, he heard a scream coming from an alleyway. He hadn't found anything, except claw marks in Frank and Lisette Gleichman's linens the next day, and a yorkie in their shed instead of a monster. It was the sulfur that caught his eye.

He'd had to stow his gun before Sid, who'd been running by, could ask him too many questions.

While putting some of the weapons from Baby's trunk into his duffel bag, he saw Elena standing there with Annie on her hip, and a look on her face that was mix between bemused and concerned.

"I ran into Sid," she said mildly. "…Did you almost shoot a yorkie?"

"…Technically."

"What's going on?" she asked knowingly.

"Nothing," Dean shrugged with a grin. She measured him with a look.

"How come I don't believe you?"

Dean sighed.

"I just, I uh…I've got this spidey sense."

"Is there something here that needs to be…taken care of?" she asked, just veiling her worry.

"Honestly? I thought at first that there was," he said, drawing closer to her. He'd briefly considered telling her about the sulfur, but for all he knew it could be nothing. They'd gone a year without anything remotely supernatural happening in Hill City. "But I'm pretty sure that I got worked up over nothing."

Her brows furrowed.

"Your gut is usually pretty spot on," she said, though she hated the thought of there being a potential threat so close. "You sure?"

He hesitated, until Annie reached out for Dean with chubby fingers. He laid a gentle hand on her head and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"Tell you what," he said, meeting Elena's eyes. "You've gotta take her to the doctor today, right? Go ahead and do that. Get something to eat, and I'll do one last sweep of the neighborhood…just to make sure."

"By yourself?"

"Yeah, Lena. I've got this," he said. "It's probably nothing anyway."

After a moment, she smiled a little through her concern.

"Want me to bring you back something?"

"Whatever you get is good."

"…Okay," Elena sighed, "but, be careful."

"Come on, you know me," he grinned. "I'm always careful."

She could've rolled her eyes.

"Right," she said in amusement. "Call me if…something happens."

He nodded and kissed her, but waited until her Camaro pulled out of the driveway to resume his task of pulling a black trunk from under the shelf of tools. In it he found his dad's journal and started flipping through it, until the lights in the garage started to flicker.

He turned around and a demon was waiting for him, standing there with a Cheshire smile and yellow eyes that had been burned into Dean's memory years ago.

* * *

The check-up was routine. Getting Annie's blood work done went as easily as it could've gone, and she got a Winnie the Pooh band-aid for the brief pain of the needle while Elena bounced the baby gently on her knee. And a half hour later when she was sitting in a low-key Mexican restaurant about a mile from home, wiping sauce from Annie's cheeks, Elena still managed to have a quiet thought.

After using baby wipes to clean up at least _some_ of the black bean mush splattered on the high-chair tray, triple checking that the car seat was firmly clicked in place, and brushing back the downy hair on her daughter's head, she had to stop and wonder when the hell she became a mom. Not just a new and somewhat inept mother struggling to figure out what to do with a baby, but an honest to God mom, with actual mom-instincts.

Some were useful, like knowing exactly when a diaper became an atomic bomb. Others were less, like how she'd taken to nagging Dean about his muddy shoes trailing the carpets like her mom used to lecture her father every afternoon without fail.

Elena didn't know when the hunter in her had dulled so much that she hadn't seen the signs, especially when, in retrospect, she should've seen something like this coming. She knew on the drive home that she shouldn't have let Dean convince her that his hunch was nothing, because his hunches were _never_ nothing. And maybe it was her own fault that a hand shot out and grabbed her arm just as she opened the car door.

She was half dragged out of the Camaro and onto hard asphalt, but she was grateful for the leather jacket she decided to wear as she looked up into the raging cold eyes of a Djinn. Her mind registered the man as Djinn in all of three seconds: one to recognize his strength as she vainly tried to break his heavy hold on her shoulders; two to identify the clan markings on his arms and trailing up over his shoulders, neck, and darkly grinning face; and three to remember the silver knife in her boot.

Elena kneed the Djinn hard enough in the ribs to surprise him and aimed a kick to his chest with said boot, sending him reeling back into the Camaro's open door. She quickly yanked out the concealed knife by its handle, but wasn't fast enough to get her feet under her before being shoved into the hard ground again, her head thwacking against the pavement hard enough to make her vision blur. Her reactions were too slow; that was her first mistake.

Her second mistake was taking precious seconds to look up—when her child's cries cut through her own struggle for breath as a large hand closed on her throat.

Her third was swinging blindly. It only nicked the creature's neck, making him hiss in pain and somewhat recoil, but not enough, as he recovered fast enough to push his entire weight into holding her down and grabbing her throat again. His eyes and the tattoos on his body began to glow blue, and the power surged down his arms, making its way to her skin.

And then the weight on her body was gone and she could breathe again. For a short lull in time, Elena's body relaxed as she lay on the ground, and she took notice of the dimming sunset colors bathing the sky and trees in orange-gold.

All too soon reality came rushing forward, and she found herself being eased into a sitting position, then crushed into a familiar hold.

"Dean," she wheezed, both from being in a daze and being physically short of breath. She let the knife in her hand clatter to the ground, while he pulled her tighter against him and kissed her hair, briefly letting out a shuddering sigh.

"You okay?" he asked gruffly. Elena closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, his steady (if a bit fast) heartbeat calming her. Until she realized that she couldn't hear Annie crying. Immediately Elena looked up, clenching Dean's jacket in alarm.

"Annie—"

"She's okay," he reassured, but helped Elena onto her feet when she insisted on seeing for herself.

She wasn't ready to see Sam Winchester, standing there with Annie in his arms and a small smile on his face.

"Hey, Lena."


End file.
